Angela Meets the Scranton Strangler
by MildlyInsane
Summary: After Angela Martin narrowly escapes becoming the latest victim of the Scranton Strangler, Dwight makes it his personal mission to catch the culprit. Meanwhile people at the office obsess over the strangler and are accidentally insensitive toward Angela who hopes to keep her encounter with the strangler a secret, while Michael attempts to teach his employees self-defense techniques
1. Chapter 1

**Angela Meets the Scranton Strangler**

 **SUMMARY: After Angela Martin narrowly escapes becoming the latest victim of the Scranton Strangler, Dwight makes it his personal mission to catch the culprit. Meanwhile people at the office obsess over the strangler and are accidentally insensitive toward Angela, who hopes to keep her encounter with the strangler a secret, while Michael attempts to teach his employees self-defense techniques.**

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 **NOTES: Set in season 2. Reminder, if you've forgotten - Angela and Dwight are in a relationship, but are attempting to hide that fact. Jim and Pam are not dating yet. Pam is with Roy. That last bit isn't all that relevant since Jim and Pam aren't major characters in this story, but they are included and aren't dating because of the season 2 setting...**

 **Dwight and Angela are the main characters in this - other characters will show up here and there, but the focus is very heavily on Dwight and Angela, with Michael's presence becoming more prominent near the end - even in the end though, Angela and Dwight remain the main focus. I do not know when the Scranton Strangler really started killing people on the show, but I'm deciding it was well before he was ever mentioned... Mostly so I could have this set during Angela's and Dwight's secret romance and also have Jim still working at the Scranton branch. The characters are just where I want them for this story during season 2, so that's when it takes place. I think I've included (if only just barely) every single season 2 character from the Scranton branch excluding the warehouse employees.**

 **Furthermore, I'm taking creative liberty in creating more details about the strangler - we never learned much about him on the show besides his name and the fact that he strangles people, so a lot of how he works is pretty much my own creation. I've devised a somewhat specific way he goes about killing as well as habits he gets into before killing - including how he chooses his victims. He was never an actual character, so I had to either make it up myself or be very vague...**

 **The story is told through 3rd person limited - pretty evenly split between focusing on either Angela or Dwight. One other character gets the focus near the end for just one chapter. And I'm not acknowledging the camera crew at all. You can pretend it's there or not. I'm certain it would create a very awkward presence in this story - especially considering that there's a murderer hanging around - surely the crew wouldn't just sit back and see what happens... So there aren't going to be any characters talking directly to the camera in this.**

 **Also, this story is funny, but it's also not. Characters will still have their eccentricities, and they're all very funny people in their own ways, but they are also going to behave like real people and be bothered by things that would upset a real person. So I do have purposefully funny things happen in this, but I also have purposefully traumatizing and sad things happen. It's a story that centers around murder and attempted murder - and also around one of the funniest shows ever. It's also even sort of accidentally romantic because I love Dwight and Angela together. Strange mix, but I think it turned out well...**

 **Enjoy:**

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 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Angela exhaled as she pulled her car into the Dunder Mifflin lot. She was returning from lunch, and wasn't necessarily eager to get back to work. Everyone seemed extra irritating today, and she really didn't want to spend any more time with them than she'd already been forced to.

Ordinarily, she didn't leave the office for lunch. It was more cost-efficient to eat in the break-room, even if it did mean she didn't have much of an opportunity to get away from everyone. Today she and Dwight had decided to secretly have lunch together. In order to maintain their secrecy, they decided upon leaving the office ten minutes apart, going to separate restaurants, ordering takeout, and meeting in a secluded park. They planned to return back to work ten minutes apart as well, and since she'd left first, she had to go back first too.

She parked her car, pulled down the sun-visor and checked her appearance. She and Dwight had gotten a little too into their make out session and she needed to be sure she still looked okay before going back into work. Keeping this whole relationship secret from her colleagues required a certain degree of attention to detail, and that meant she couldn't leave for lunch looking neat and tidy only to come back with messed up hair and wrinkled clothing. There was a reason no one suspected that she and Dwight were seeing each other, and that reason was because they were careful. Looking in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair, straightened the collar on her shirt, and put the visor back up. She looked fine, as usual.

Grabbing her purse out of the passenger seat, Angela stepped out of the car and closed the door as the sound of another car pulling into the lot caught her attention. She glanced over with a frown, hoping Dwight wasn't back already. They were supposed to be strategically spacing their separate returns so as to not raise suspicion.

Angela raised her eyebrows as she looked across the lot to see an unfamiliar white van. It looked like something a delivery driver would use, except that it was unmarked and the windows were tinted, even the front windshield. The driver was not at all visible, but as far as she knew, no one from work owned such a vehicle. She was fairly certain driving a car with a tinted front windshield like that was illegal.

As she stared across the way at the unfamiliar vehicle, and as the van came to a stop near the edge of the lot - not in a parking space, Angela frowned again. Who was this person, and why were they here? Maybe they were lost. She'd have to walk past the vehicle in order to get to the front door. Part of her wanted to get back in her car and wait for them to either park or leave. Part of her wanted to go up to the van, knock on the window, and inform them that this lot was for employees only and that they needed to go.

She didn't feel as assertive as usual with all of the talk going around lately about the Scranton Strangler. He'd killed at least seven people over the past year, his murders were becoming closer and closer together, and the local news was covering the latest victim in great detail lately.

Everyone was on edge - the murders was all anyone wanted to talk about. It was scary knowing someone out there was indiscriminately strangling people. The fact that there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how the victims were selected was very unsettling. He'd killed women and men, of different races and ages, from different parts of town... None of the victims seemed to know each other in any way. It seemed completely random, which was making finding the person responsible very difficult for the police.

She swallowed nervously as she stared across the lot. Whoever was driving the van didn't seem to have any plans of deciding what exactly they were doing here. They still didn't pull into a parking space or back out and leave. Maybe they were lost and were re-planning their route.

Nervously biting her lower lip, Angela decided to just go inside. They weren't that close to the building. She wouldn't have to walk right up to the side of the van or anything... She figured she was probably being ridiculous anyway. It was just a van. Lots of people drove vans. It didn't make them murderers. Of course, a lot of murderers _did_ happen to drive vans over other vehicles though. If a murderer was going to stalk the Dunder Mifflin parking lot, they probably _would_ be in a van...

She nearly screamed when she heard a car door close behind her. Spinning around and putting her hand over her heart, she looked across the lot to see Kelly pulling her purse up on her shoulder and locking her car with the push-lock on her key chain. Kelly offered a half smile and waved to her co-worker.

Angela exhaled. When had Kelly even gotten back from lunch? Angela had been so distracted by the suspicious van that she wasn't paying attention to anything else going on around her. She looked across the lot at Kelly, didn't smile or wave back, but chose to wait for the other woman to make her way over so they could walk in together. The strangler never went after people if they weren't by themselves - not that she knew of anyway. No matter how much Kelly annoyed her, Angela would rather walk inside with her than go by herself and have whoever was in that van jump out and attack her while she was alone.

"Hey, Angela!" Kelly grinned as she made her way over with enthusiastic, bouncy steps. "You waited for me!" She seemed shocked and also excited, probably because most people immediately tried to run off as soon as they saw her - to avoid having to suffer through endless stories about celebrities or shopping.

"Did you have a nice lunch, Kelly?" Angela made polite conversation as she quickened her pace and made her way toward the front door of their building. She couldn't exactly tell Kelly she'd only waited because she had an irrational fear of walking into the building alone.

"Yeah. There's this new sandwich place and Ryan knows one of the guys who manages it, so I can get stuff like half off even when Ryan isn't there. I wish he could go to lunch with me, but he always says he's too busy. Michael really makes him work hard, Angela. It's totally not fair. Isn't that illegal or something?" Kelly rambled.

Angela shrugged. Ryan didn't have too much work. He was avoiding her.

"Anyway, it's pretty good. I'm kinda trying to watch my weight, so I get water instead of a soda, but they have like lemonade and tea and stuff too. Maybe on fridays I'll get lemonade. But that's assuming I go there like every day. Maybe that's excessive."

"Maybe," Angela agreed. It was a good thing she didn't really have anything to say to Kelly, because the other woman was not leaving her much time to say it.

"The sandwich shop is right near the mall though, so that's really convenient..." Kelly went on as Angela toned out her increasingly annoying voice.

As they walked, Angela glanced back at the van, narrowing her eyes as she tried to see through the tinted windows. She frowned as the vehicle backed out of the lot and back onto the main road. Maybe they really had just made a wrong turn. It's not like the strangler ever struck in the middle of the day in business parking lots out in front of potentially dozens of witnesses. She was being paranoid. Everyone talking about nothing but the murders was making her crazy.

"...And they were like half-off, but there was another sale for twenty-percent off anything in the whole store! And they let me buy them for both - like half and twenty percent off at the same time. Both sales together... So like seventy percent off! Or maybe it was just twenty percent off _of_ fifty percent, so like sixty percent? Or would that be if they were ten percent off? I really don't know how it works... I mean, you're an accountant, so you'd probably know. Anyway, they were only like fourteen dollars. And they're really nice, Angela. I mean really, _really_ expensive. On an ordinary day, I mean... Before they were discounted. It was a really good deal." Kelly spoke in a quick, excited voice, barely even leaving herself room to breathe between sentences.

Angela looked back at Kelly and realized the other woman had been talking while Angela's focus was on the strange van. "That's great." Angela exhaled as she pulled the door open, wishing now that she'd rushed into the building back when she had the chance so she wouldn't have had to listen to this story.

"It's a really, really good sale if you're interested, Angela. Some stuff was even more marked down, but it wasn't really my style. You might have liked some of them. Like closed-toed stuff. You should check it out. Do you wear women's sizes in shoes?" Kelly wondered as she glanced down toward Angela's feet.

With a scoff, Angela walked ahead, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to their floor. Unfortunately, Kelly made it through the doors before they closed.

"Well, I mean, it's fine if you wear kids sizes. I did too until I was like sixteen... I _wish_ I could still wear kids sizes. I'm just asking." Kelly frowned and looked down at the elevator floor.

Angela rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not going to dignify that question with a response," she replied. She and Kelly hardly had the same fashion sense anyway. Whatever store Kelly was talking about was probably not going to carry anything Angela would be willing to wear. Maybe Kelly enjoyed looking like a cheap prostitute. Angela respected herself too much to wear open-toed shoes, high heels, or anything being sold in the same kind of trashy store that would stoop to selling them.

"Sorry," Kelly muttered. "Having small feet is a good thing. I wasn't trying to be mean."

"My feet are fine," Angela scowled ahead at the elevator door, hoping they'd get up to their floor soon.

"No, I know they're fine. I just-" Kelly began.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Angela rushed out as quickly as possible, not caring that Kelly was in mid-sentence. The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk to Kelly about shoes or listen to the woman mock her feet. She was beginning to think she would have been better off just letting the stranger in that van murder her rather than listen to this nonsense.

She was going to go back to her desk so she could finish her work, but as soon as they entered the office, she realized Michael was on another one of his missions to distract everyone from getting anything done.

"Guys! Get in here! They're talking about the Scranton Strangler on the news!" he called out from the conference room. He was poking his head out the door and speaking in a frantic whisper as he emphatically gestured for them to join him. The muffled sounds of a news report could be heard, and Angela noticed pretty much everyone in the office was in there eagerly watching like it was a movie. She even smelled popcorn.

"I've already seen the news, Michael," Angela complained as she noticed Kelly gladly taking up her boss's offer to watch the news instead of working. Angela actually had things she needed to do though. She was never going to get anything done at this rate, and really didn't want to hear more about what was really a very scary situation. People had died. It wasn't entertainment.

"Get in here, Angela," Michael persisted. "It's required."

Angela exhaled and dragged her feet into the room, sitting down in one of the vacant seats along the wall, between Kevin and Stanley, and crossing her arms over her chest as she glared up toward the small television at the front of the room.

 _"The latest victim of the Scranton Strangler has been identified as thirty-one year old Naomi Park, a wife and mother who worked as a nurse,"_ the reporter spoke. _"Her husband gave a statement earlier today..."_

Angela frowned as she looked up at the screen, at a photo of a smiling young Asian woman with glasses. Angela remembered the previous victim was a slightly overweight fifty-some year old white woman, and a little seventy-some year old white man was before that. The killer seemed to have no preference when it came to victim 'type.' It was so odd and was putting everyone even more on edge - no one could look at the victims and figure they were safe because they were so different from the others. The killer's lack of a clear pattern had everyone wondering if his next choice of victim could be them.

The news station then played a clip of the woman's husband speaking to the press, mentioning their young son and crying. The woman had only been killed five days ago. It had just taken until now for her identity to be made public. The husband was quite clearly and quite understandably still very upset about what had happened to his wife.

"Michael, this is really depressing," Pam spoke up in a small voice from across the room. "Maybe we should get back to work..."

"Pam! We deserve to know whats going on!" Kelly disagreed. Angela knew she just didn't want to go back to her desk and actually do anything useful today. The people in this office were so lazy. "I'm not going anywhere alone ever again. This is getting crazy." Kelly went on as she stared with wide eyes up at the television screen.

"Do we have to watch it during work hours?" Angela agreed with Pam for once. "This is really inappropriate. I think we should be allowed to go through a work day without having to constantly hear about this."

"This guy could kill any one of you next." Michael pouted. "We should all learn as much about him as we can."

"We can do that on our own time if we choose to," Stanley complained, but didn't take his eyes off the crossword puzzle he was working on. "This is irrelevant to my job."

"It's _relevant_ , Stanley." Michael stared back at him. "It's relevant because the strangler chooses his victims at random. And that means there's a good chance the next person to die could be any one of us, or any of our clients... You don't think it could be you, Stanley, but it could be. None of the people who died thought it would be them. They didn't think it was relevant either, and look where it got them. We should be prepared."

Angela frowned. "How does watching this prepare us for anything?"

Michael looked at her with narrowed eyes. For a few moments, she wondered if he was even going to respond. Maybe he was just planning on staring until she got uncomfortable and looked away. She was about to say something else, to ask once again if she could go back to work, when he finally started talking instead. "You're right. You're all right... This isn't enough. We need to do something better..." He trailed off and walked out of the conference room.

Angela looked around the room at her co-workers. Some of them looked confused or worried, how they often did whenever Michael seemed to be thinking of some ill-advised plot they were bound to get dragged into. Others were still interested in the news story, which was now covering previous victims and emphasizing how astoundingly different and unrelated to each other they all were.

"I hope he doesn't try to make us start carrying weapons or something," Pam whispered to Jim.

Jim shrugged, shook his head, and stood from his chair. Pam followed him out.

Angela stood from and made her way out of the room too, listening to a conversation between Oscar and Kevin as the three of them made their way back to their desks.

"I might legitimately start carrying mace," Oscar noted.

"Like a _girl_?" Kevin laughed.

"No," Oscar sighed. "Like someone who doesn't want to be strangled to death."

"I've only ever seen girls carrying mace," Kevin persisted. "I think I would be pretty embarrassed if someone saw me with a can of mace... Because they'd think I was a girl."

"No one's going to think _you're_ a girl, Kevin," Angela reminded him.

"Yeah, because I'm not gonna carry mace like a girl," Kevin noted with a smirk.

"Well, if the strangler ever came after you, you'd probably be glad you had it," Oscar spoke in a very matter of fact voice as he settled down at his desk and began clicking around on his computer screen.

Angela scowled at Kevin as she sat down in her chair and then glanced over toward Oscar. "There's no shame in being prepared to defend yourself, Oscar," she spoke in a low voice.

"Like a girl," Kevin giggled.

"Kevin, you're being very offensive." Angela frowned at him.

"Sorry." Kevin shrugged, but didn't really seem to mean it. He picked up a pen and started writing something on a form he'd been working on. "Oh, man... I messed up again," he immediately grumbled.

"I told you to use a pencil, Kevin." Angela stared across her desk at him.

Kevin ignored her and started scribbling over his mistake. Angela shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes. He couldn't submit that with scribbles all over it. He was so unprofessional.

Angela looked up as she noticed Dwight coming in through the front entrance. He gave her a few second-long stare, silently directing her to meet him in the break room. She stared back, silently telling him she'd correctly interpreted his stare.

"Angela, did I do this right?" Kevin spoke as he pressed the form he'd been filling out against the glass between his desk and hers.

"I doubt it." She sighed as she rummaged through her desk drawer for some change for the vending machine and then stood up. "Be right back," she mumbled dismissively and made her way into the break room.

As she entered the room, she headed straight for the vending machine, purposefully ignoring the fact that Dwight was even there. While he examined the soda machine, she looked over the vending machine's options. She didn't want any of the available snacks, but kept pretending to be interested.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Dwight spoke in a low voice without looking her way.

"I do not," Angela responded as she continued staring at the chips, cookies, and candy lined up behind the machine's window.

"I happen to have two hours free from seven to nine," Dwight told her.

"I also have no plans during that time," Angela replied as she stared through the vending machine's glass. "I'll be alone at my house from seven to nine," she added, telling him without really telling him that she would welcome his presence. By now they were getting pretty good at communicating in a way no one else could possibly understand. No one was within earshot right now, but they still liked to keep their conversations vague whenever they were in public.

"I see. I wish you a pleasant evening alone in your house," Dwight told her.

"I wish you a pleasant evening as well." Angela nodded slightly without taking her eyes off of the colorful snacks in front of her. "I won't really be alone. My cats will be with me."

"Oh. That's good. Perhaps I'll happen to see a cat tonight," Dwight noted.

"I bet you will," Angela told him.

Dwight nodded very slightly. "That's good to know. I'll look forward to that possibility." He turned and left the break room, leaving Angela smiling in front of the vending machine.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Please review. :) Hopefully there are people still reading The Office fanfiction... The show has been over for a while, so I don't know if anyone is even going to read this... I hope someone does. I took quite a bit of time writing it and feel pretty happy with it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites and all that. I appreciate the support. :)**_

 _ **Here's the next chapter. Enjoy:**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 2**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Angela glanced over at the clock on her stove as she finished washing her dishes. It was six forty-six. Dwight was due to come over at seven. He was very rarely even a minute early or late because he knew it bothered her if he showed up before she was ready or left her waiting. He'd likely be here promptly on the hour, so that left her exactly fourteen minutes to kill.

She dried her plate, fork, knife, and cup and put them away. She always did the dishes immediately after eating so they'd never pile up. Living with only cats was a pretty simple, yet sometimes lonely way to go about life. She glanced down as her cat Sprinkles rubbed against her ankles and meowed.

"I already fed you, Sprinkles." Angela smiled down at her. Sprinkles meowed again. "I don't have anything!" Angela laughed as she showed the cat her empty hands. Sometimes her cats would get clingy when they thought she was making food. "I was just doing the dishes," Angela told her.

Sprinkles seemed to understand that she wasn't getting any more dinner and trotted off.

Angela dried her hands on dish towel hanging on the front of her stove and then made her way into the living room. She looked at her reflection in a mirror she had hanging on her wall. She wanted to look her best for Dwight. Though she knew he'd find her appealing no matter what, she still tried to put in a bit of effort. Angela was not one of those women who would be content to let her looks slip just because she was no longer looking for a man. She wanted Dwight to always be impressed by how she looked, and wanted to feel the same way about herself. She fixed her hair, straightened her shirt, and then went and sat down on her couch. Dwight would be here within the next ten minutes.

Sighing, Angela crossed her legs and tapped her fingertips on her knee. She wished he'd show up early this time. Even though she actually very much appreciated him being exactly on time, she was getting impatient. It was good to show up when expected, so as to not catch anyone off-guard or keep them waiting, but lately she found that she'd get herself so excited that she'd end up impatiently waiting anyway, even knowing exactly when he was due to arrive.

Angela frowned when she heard her doorbell ring. She looked over at the clock on the wall. It was six fifty-one. Dwight was never early. Maybe it was someone else... She couldn't imagine who'd be visiting this late though. It wouldn't be the mail man or a salesman. It was winter, so it was dark already.

She stood and made her way over to the door, peering out the peep hole before opening it. She didn't see anyone. Maybe they' stepped to the side. She tried to move her face slightly one way or the other to see more space outside. She couldn't see any trace of anyone at all. Not even a car out by the road.

"Hello?" she called out. She didn't really want to open the door now. Why would someone ring her doorbell and then hide? It was creepy. It reminded her of horror films - and she hated horror films.

No one replied. "Is someone out there?" she spoke a bit louder as she scowled at the closed door.

Still, no one answered. Maybe she'd imagined the bell ringing. Or maybe there was just some kind of blind-spot that she couldn't see through the peep hole, and maybe her voice didn't carry through the wooden door and whoever had rang didn't hear her asking who they were. She reached toward the lock, but then hesitated.

"Who's out there?" she spoke in a louder, more assertive voice.

When no one answered, she started feeling angry. Someone was messing with her, and she didn't appreciate it. She wasn't scared of them either. They were probably trying to scare her, but it wasn't going to work. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, staring out at her front porch and scowling into the darkness. Her porch-light illuminated the porch itself, but not much else. She couldn't see very far out toward the street. No one was there.

"Whoever you are, that's not funny. Don't ring my bell again, or I'll call the police. Jerk!" she shouted out to seemingly no one and slammed the door closed behind her. Whoever it was, hopefully they didn't stick around long enough to see Dwight arrive. She didn't need anyone - not even her neighbors who she never even talked to - to know that she and Dwight were seeing each other.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes in annoyance as she made her way back toward her couch, but quickly found herself wincing and shrinking down when every single light in her house suddenly turned off.

Angela swallowed nervously at the deafening silence and cold darkness that surrounded her. The usual humming noise of various appliances and the sound of warm air flowing through her air vents was gone. People never seemed to realize how much noise they were constantly surrounded by until they were unexpectedly enveloped in complete silence.

She certainly hoped it was just a coincidence that someone had been messing with her doorbell and her power went out immediately after, but the two strange events happening together like this seemed like anything but chance...

She felt around in the dark as her eyes adjusted. If she found her cellphone, she could call the electric company and find out if this was an issue for more than just her own house. Hopefully Dwight would get here soon too, because she was starting to feel pretty nervous. If she had to sit around in the dark with weirdos ringing her bell for no reason, she'd prefer to not have to do so all alone.

Dim moonlight shined in through her windows and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found she could see just enough to avoid walking into things as she spotted her purse across the room, between herself and the front door, on the table where she always left it when she returned home after work.

No sooner than she had located her bag, she heard her front door creaking open. She must have forgotten to re-lock it.

"Dwight?" she called out in a small voice as she shrunk down slightly. She looked toward the door, but it was too dark to see who was walking through it. She could only see a vague silhouette. "Is that you?" she whispered.

There came no answer. Angela wondered if she should go for her phone or run toward the back door. If it was Dwight, he would have said so... He would know standing in the doorway like a creep would scare her, and therefore would never do it.

Angela swallowed as she stared silently at the figure in the doorway. Whoever it was, they still hadn't responded. They weren't coming further inside, but weren't leaving either. They were just standing there, un-moving, silent... It looked like a man, but she still couldn't see anything but his silhouette. He was tall and had broad shoulders. Either he was dressed in all black, or the darkness made him look like he was.

Keeping her eyes on the intruder, she took a small, timid step toward her bag, but quickly found that whoever was standing in her doorway had no plans to let her get to it. As soon as she stepped forward, so did they, with a much larger stride.

Angela gasped a small whimper and stepped backward as she kept staring at the shadowy stranger. For a moment, the mysterious person held still, seemingly watching her and waiting for her to make the next move. Angela was scared to make a move though.

"I think you have the wrong house..." she suggested in an uncertain voice, hoping this guy was just confused or drunk. The alternative was much too frightening for her to want to consider it.

The figure shook his head slowly. Angela narrowed her eyes and frowned as she stared at him. His face was still masked by shadows, but she could swear his features were being covered by more than that. It looked like he was wearing some kind of ski mask, which there was definitely no innocent excuse for. If he'd come into the house by mistake, he wouldn't be dressed up like a criminal. No... This was something he had planned and was doing very purposefully.

"Get out... Right now... or I'll call the police," she finally threatened in a shaking voice, even though she had no way of doing so. There was no chance of her getting to her phone without this stranger ambushing her before she ever made it to her purse.

She winced and stepped back again as the dark-clad stranger took another large step forward.

"I'll scream," she added as she continued taking small steps backward without looking where she was going. She gasped as she bumped into her coffee table and nearly tripped over it.

The figure's head shook slowly back and forth again, silently requesting that she not scream.

Angela frowned. "What do you want? My purse is over there." She gestured toward her bag. "You can just take it," she offered. She was starting to get really, really scared. Whoever this guy was, he was very tall - maybe even taller than Dwight. She didn't know if he was armed, didn't know what his plan was... She'd never had a stranger in a ski mask walk into her house and silently stare at her and close in on her like this. She didn't know how to handle this kind of thing...

She couldn't help but to deliver on her earlier threat and let out a panicked, shrill scream as he suddenly lunged toward her. She stumbled back, tripping over the coffee table yet again as she turned and sprinted toward the back door. Unfortunately, she'd have to make it through a majority of the house before she could reach the door, and the man pursuing her had a much larger stride. She could feel his heavy footsteps vibrating through the store behind her as she ran as fast as she could. He was definitely gaining on her.

Just as she was passing her bedroom door, she felt him grab her by her arms and tug her harshly back. He slammed her face-first against the wall and violently wrestled her arms back behind her.

Angela cried out a pained whimper as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her attacker quickly began working to bind her hands behind her with some kind of thin rope. He bound them tight too, so tight that she couldn't even begin to wriggle her arms free, and could practically feel the cords cutting into her skin.

"Heeelllp!" she screamed before he finished tying her hands and spun her around. She stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes as he pushed her backward through her bedroom door so that she tripped at the foot of her bed and landed on her back against the mattress. She coughed, as landing so roughly had knocked the air out of her lungs.

With a whimper, she struggled to stand, but soon found him climbing on top of her, pinning her down, and pressing his hand against her mouth to keep her from screaming again.

Angela shook her head very slightly. His gloved hand over her face didn't allow her to move much. She stared up into his dark eyes as she gasped pained, frightened breaths which barely managed to reach her lungs through his large hand which also seemed to be covering her nose now. It was unclear whether or not he was trying to restrict her breathing or if he just didn't realize how much of her face his huge hand covered. She whimpered a muffled cry as she struggled to free her hands.

As she continued fighting to throw him off of her, he pressed his hand harder against her face, further restricting her breathing. He glared down into her eyes, with a cold, angry stare. Since he was wearing a ski mask, the only part of his face she could see were his eyes, which seemed to be trying to read hers.

With a pained and frightened groan, Angela weakly squirmed under him. He was so heavy, and his hand on her face was so firmly pressed down, holding her securely in place. She desperately wanted to be able to speak, to beg him to let her go, to tell him he could have any amount of money if he didn't hurt her, to promise him she wouldn't press charges or tell anyone he was ever even here if he just let her go... to do anything at all to save herself from whatever he planned to do to her. She couldn't budge even an inch.

Finally, he moved his hand from her face, but just as she was ready to start screaming for help again, he reached for her throat, wrapping both hands around her neck and starting to squeeze.

Angela felt tears coming to her eyes as she desperately tried to throw his heavy body off of hers and pulled uselessly at her trapped hands. She could feel the thin rope biting into the skin on her wrists as she pulled desperately at her hands. She tried to scream or kick out, but could barely move, and could get no sound beyond a tiny, desperate whimper to escape her lips. She couldn't breathe. He was going to kill her.

It occurred to her as she struggled to inhale even a tiny bit that this was probably the man everyone had been talking about on the news. Unless there was another person viciously strangling people for no reason, Angela could safely say the dark, angry eyes she was desperately staring into were those of the locally notorious Scranton Strangler. As scary as those news stories were, and as paranoid as they made her and everyone else feel, she never honestly dreamed this man would actually come after her. What was a fairly distant and seemingly almost irrational fear had all at once become extremely real. Angela was going to die here - in her own house - a place where she was supposed to feel safe. She was going to be killed right on her own bed. Before long, she'd be nothing but another name on a long list of poor souls whose lives had been stolen by the strangler.

As her attacker continued squeezing his hands around her neck, Angela felt tears streaming from her eyes. She feebly pulled at her arms, feeling the ropes cutting into her wrists even more the more she struggled. She couldn't get free. He was going to strangle her, and there was absolutely no way to even attempt to fight back. He was so much bigger and stronger than she was, and yet he still felt the need to tie her hands behind her before doing this. It was so unfair. She felt so cheated.

Her vision began to grow fuzzy, her ears were filled with a strange ringing sound, and her lungs burned and felt cold at the same time as she heard a faint knock at her front door. Dwight never used the doorbell. She remembered that now. He was here, but it seemed like he was perhaps a few minutes too late. She couldn't call out to him and she could feel that she was very close to losing consciousness. By the time he knew something was wrong, she would likely already be dead...

Fortunately, however, the knock at the door seemed to catch her attacker by surprise. He flinched slightly and loosened his grip around her throat just enough for Angela to manage to let out a small, frantic cry. "Dwight!" she screamed in a weak, strained voice that didn't even sound like hers. It was raspy and hurt her throat, but she couldn't give in. She breathed in a painful, shaking gasp before continuing to call for help. "Dwight!" she cried out again, trying to be louder. "Help me!"

She heard the front door open quite forcefully this time and heard Dwight call out her name in a concerned, confused shout. He sounded so far away, but he was here... He must have heard her, and was serious about throwing the door violently open in order to quickly rush to her aid.

The man hovering over her let out a very slight sound that almost sounded like a growl before tightening his grip for a half a second. He glared down at her and squeezed his hands around her neck before shaking his head, letting go, standing up, and quickly darting out of the room.

Angela gasped pained, frantic, desperate breaths and curled onto her side. She felt more tears streaming from her eyes as she struggled to regain steady breathing. She squeezed her eyes closed and sucked in painful breaths as she heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching the room. She wanted to hope it was Dwight, but was too scared and preoccupied with attempting to breathe to look and confirm that it was him.

Dwight proved that it was in fact him, however, when he rushed to her side, putting his hand gently against her arm and pulling her up into a sitting position. "Angela! What happened!? Are you okay? Who did this to you?" he gasped.

Angela shook her head slightly and started to sob. She let Dwight pull her into an embrace while he grabbed his phone off of his belt and dialed the police. She didn't listen to whatever he was saying into the phone. She just leaned against his chest and cried. She didn't even care that her wrists were still bound. She only cared that he was here with her, holding onto her and keeping her safe. Nothing and no one could hurt her with him here.

After a few moments of him chatting back and forth with the 911 operator, Dwight focused his attention back on Angela. He pressed a button on his phone to put it on speaker and set it down on the bed before starting to work on untying Angela's wrists.

"Are you hurt?" Dwight wondered as he loosened the ropes.

Angela shook her head and sniffed back tears. She honestly didn't know if she was significantly injured. She didn't think she was, but it was really hard to say. She was just happy she could breathe again.

 _"Are you still there, sir?"_ the voice on the phone spoke up. _"Officers and an ambulance are on the way. Please stay on the phone until they get there. Do you know which way the suspect went? Is it possible he is still in the house?"_

Dwight looked questioningly down at Angela, who shrugged. She only knew that he left this particular room. She had no idea where he went.

"We don't know." Dwight spoke up, answering the dispatcher's question. "I think I scared him away, but I didn't actually see him."

 _"Do you know if he has any sort of weapon?"_ The dispatcher continued.

Angela shook her head and shrugged again, letting Dwight answer the question neither of them knew the answer to.

"We don't know if he's armed. I think he ran off though. I don't think he's here," Dwight told her and focused back on finishing untying Angela's wrists with careful, gentle hands.

Once Angela's wrists were untied, she wrapped her arms around Dwight's torso, clinging to him rather desperately as she laid her head against his chest. As she sniffed and breathed in trembling, painful breaths, Dwight hugged her close.

"You're okay, Monkey," Dwight assured her as he moved his hand carefully over her back and placed the other gently against the back of her head. "You'll be alright. You're safe," he spoke in a reassuring voice.

Angela closed her eyes as she leaned against him and listened to his voice as he spoke. She wasn't paying attention to his words anymore. He may have not even been talking to her - the 911 operator was being very needy. Angela didn't care what he was saying though. She was just glad he was speaking at all. Just his voice alone put her at ease.

She'd been so sure a few minutes ago that she was about to die, but he had shown up at the last second and literally saved her life. For this moment, she needed nothing more than Dwight's presence.

 ** _xxxxxx_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thanks so much for your continued support. I'm really glad to have found that a couple people are into this plot. I wasn't sure if The Office was too much of a thing of the past, but clearly people are still into the show and subsequently, the fanfiction, so yay!_**

 ** _Here's the next chapter. Enjoy:_**

 ** _xxxxxx_**

 ** _Chapter 3_**

 ** _xxxxxx_**

"Did you get a good look at him?" Dwight wondered as he and Angela made their way toward his house. She had just finally gotten through at the hospital and with talking to the cops and now Dwight was asking her all the same questions she'd just had to go over in excruciating detail with the police. He was apparently gathering the same information the cops wouldn't allow him to be present to hear - probably in an attempt to start an investigation of his own, as he tended to think the police were incapable of doing their jobs better than he could do it for them.

Even though she acknowledged the police's general incompetence as well as anyone else in Scranton, she wasn't quite keen on the idea of Dwight taking it upon himself to solve this case for them. If the Scranton Strangler was easy to catch, someone would have done so by now. Dwight couldn't do the impossible, especially considering Angela hardly had any information to offer up.

"No, Dwight. I didn't." Angela frowned and crossed her arms over her chest as she stared out the car's window. He was taking her and her cats to the beet farm so she could stay there with him until she decided what to do next. She really didn't want to stay at her own house by herself. It was also kind of a crime scene. Fortunately, most people from work didn't know where she lived and would either not see the commotion at her house, or not realize it was her house they were seeing. With any luck, no one would ever hear about what had happened, or at least wouldn't know who it had happened to. She really didn't want all the attention they would be sure to pay her if they found out.

"Did he say anything to you?" Dwight glanced toward her and then looked back at the road. "Did you hear his voice at all?"

"No," she answered in a small, tired voice. He'd left her no room to talk him out of it or make any sort of compromise. He seemed to have a very specific plan for how he killed and was aiming to stick to it. It wasn't a cat and mouse game. It wasn't something he liked to drag out. He didn't seem to be into taunting or torturing his victims. He just wanted to get the job done. It was so cold and calculated.

"Did he have any particular smell? Anything we could use to find out maybe where he works or lives?" Dwight asked. "I, for example, may smell like beets or dirt on certain occasions. Did he smell like anything?"

Angela shook her head. She couldn't remember hardly anything specific. It had all happened so fast. She remembered no smell at all. She couldn't even remember what color his eyes were - that was the only part of him she'd seen. She knew he was tall, but everyone was compared to her.

"Did he seem to want to do anything sexual?" Dwight went on. "Did he touch you anywhere? Or try to? I mean, like besides for holding you down and trying to strangle you... Did he try to undress you or grope around anywhere that-"

"Ew. No, Dwight!" Angela interrupted with a disgusted frown and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. It was bad enough that the guy had tried to kill her. She didn't even want to think about that.

"Well, that's good." Dwight nodded with a relieved exhale. "He certainly could have... This could have been a lot worse, and now we also know he's just into killing and it's not about something else. So we're not looking for a sexual predator. That really narrows it down."

Angela glanced toward him with raised eyebrows and a small pout on her lips.

"I mean it... Anyone who's a sexual predator would definitely go ahead and take advantage of that opportunity if they were going to kill people anyway. It only makes sense." He shrugged. "It can't be a rapist if they have the opportunity to rape all these people they're killing and they don't do it. That'd explain why his victims are all so different too - it's not about any kind of attraction. He just likes killing," Dwight explained.

Angela swallowed nervously as she looked back out the car window, into the darkness. She was pretty sure Dwight was trying to make her feel better, but it was certainly not working. Knowing that the murderer could have raped her but chose not to and had chosen to attempt to quickly and violently murder her instead didn't make the situation any less terrifying. He also could have very well had that intention and perhaps just hadn't gotten around to that part yet. Of course, strangling her to death first didn't make much sense in that case, unless he was into necrophilia. Angela shuddered. Either way, he'd tried to kill her, and was about two or three minutes away from succeeding. If Dwight hadn't shown up when he did, Angela would be dead right now.

"Do you think you could estimate his height and weight?" Dwight went on.

Angela shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know... He was pretty tall. As tall or a little taller than you I think, but I'm not sure. I couldn't really see him that well in the dark and he was dressed in dark clothing... I couldn't really tell if he was average or overweight... He was really strong. I know that much." It was difficult for her to guess how muscular he was just based on that. Almost any man could easily wrestle her arms behind her and pin her down if they wanted to. It didn't take much effort to overpower her.

"And you didn't see anything that you remember? Hair color? Eye color? Skin tone? Crooked teeth? Anything?" Dwight frowned and glanced toward her.

Angela closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know, Dwight. Do we have to talk about this?" She felt like an idiot not being able to even give the smallest detail. He'd been wearing a ski mask. His eyes were showing. The skin around his eyes was showing. She should have been able to tell Dwight the color of his eyes and skin, but she just couldn't recall the information. When she had been fighting to not be violently strangled to death, she just hadn't taken the time to pay attention to these things. Her fear mixed with the fact that all of this had happened in the dark made recalling visual details very difficult.

"I'm gonna find this guy, Monkey," Dwight spoke in a more gentle voice as he reached across the front of the car and carefully gripped her hand in his.

She squeezed his hand lightly and looked over at him. A part of her liked that he was being protective and vengeful, but she was also scared he was going to end up getting himself hurt. What if he did find the strangler and became just another victim? This guy had killed people of all sizes - including perfectly strong and capable men like Dwight. If he got too close, the strangler might put an end to him.

"You should leave it to the cops, Dwight," She told him.

"It's been left to the cops for the past year." Dwight frowned. "They don't know what they're doing. If they'd done their job sooner, the strangler would have already been caught and wouldn't have attacked you. It's time for someone competent to step in."

Angela looked down and brought her knees closer to her chest and her feet up into the seat. "I just don't want anything to happen to you... What if you get too close and he kills you?"

"He won't," Dwight promised. "If I get that close, the strangler's gonna be the one who needs to be worried... Especially now." He glanced toward Angela as he pulled the car up in front of his house and put it into park. "He messed with the wrong woman."

Angela felt a small smile tugging at her lips, but still didn't feel great about Dwight taking this matter into his own hands. There were so many ways it could go wrong.

"Don't tell Mose why I'm here," Angela requested as she looked up at the house. All the lights appeared to be out. Dwight's cousin was probably asleep, but if she happened to run into him while visiting, she didn't want him knowing what had happened. She didn't want anyone to know. He also didn't need to know that she and Dwight were seeing each other. That was a secret kept between two people - and Mose wasn't one of them.

"He wouldn't tell anyone." Dwight shook his head and climbed out of the car, making his way around to Angela's side and opening her door. "He really only talks to me," he added. "He'd have no one to tell even if he wanted to, but I can make him promise not to say anything anyway."

"Don't tell him, Dwight," Angela said again. "No one needs to know what happened. No one at all. Not even family. If he asks, we'll say my house has a gas leak or something. Could you grab the litter box out of the back?" She quickly changed the subject.

Dwight nodded and opened the back door. He grabbed the litter box and the small overnight bag they'd quickly packed back at Angela's house. "I can have Mose come carry a couple of these cats for you," he offered.

"No, they'll follow me," she declined. Even so, she picked up Sprinkles and hugged her against her chest. Her furry little friend helped warm her up and make her feel a tiny bit safer. The other cats, as she'd guessed they would, hopped out of the back seat and congregated around her feet. "Come on, babies," she called down to them and walked carefully toward the house.

Dwight followed, rushing ahead a couple steps as they neared the door and held it open for her. "Mose, I have company over. Stay in your room!" he shouted up to his cousin.

"Dwight!" Angela frowned. "He doesn't have to stay hidden... and it's well after midnight. You probably woke him up."

"No, he's always up this late. It's the best time to find wolf spiders," Dwight told her.

Angela grimaced and looked around at the dark corners of the room she and Dwight were standing in. Her cats usually caught any bugs that happened to make their way into her house, but even that rarely happened. Any time she saw any sort of pest anywhere near her home, she did something about it before it became a problem. She certainly would have never had a wolf spider infestation at _her_ house.

"Don't worry... They're mostly outside the house. He climbs down from his window and searches the grass for them," Dwight told her. He seemed to have read her concerns on her face.

"Why doesn't he just use the front door?" Angela frowned.

"Because one day I yelled at him and told him to sleep at night instead. He wants to keep hunting spiders, but doesn't want me to know," Dwight answered.

Angela exhaled and closed her eyes. The more she heard about Dwight's family, the more she wondered if a future including children with the man should be out of the question. If she reproduced with Dwight, would her child hunt spiders at night like a lunatic? "Why does he go outside to find spiders?" She asked, quickly growing tired of this absurd conversation. "Does he bring them into the house? Are there spiders in here? None of this makes any sense."

"He's training them," Dwight answered with a laugh.

"For what?" Angela stared up at him.

Dwight shook his head. "I don't know, Monkey," he said with an exhale and a shrug. "He keeps them confined to an aquarium with a lid in his room, so you don't need to worry."

Angela shrugged and looked around. She'd never been to Dwight's house before. The fact that she lived alone (besides her cats) and he lived with Mose meant that meeting at her house was the only way to keep their relationship a secret. Dwight claimed Mose knowing that she and Dwight were dating would be harmless, but she didn't want to risk it.

"I can set you up in your own room," Dwight offered as he shifted from one foot to the other.

"Maybe I could stay in your room," she suggested. She really didn't want to be by herself after what she'd just experienced. The chances of the strangler following her here and trying to kill her again, even with two other people in the house were slim, but she still didn't want to feel in any way like someone would have the chance to sneak in and find her all by herself.

"Oh, and I could stay in the guest room." Dwight nodded as though understanding what she had meant.

Angela's shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes in annoyance for a moment. "No, Dwight. I want to stay _with you_ in your room... I don't want to be alone right now," she added in a small voice as she looked down at the floor. Angela was not one to ever want to appear weak or vulnerable, not even in front of Dwight... But she felt really nervous and the thought of going into a dark bedroom all by herself made her practically shake with dread.

"Okay," Dwight quickly agreed with a nod. "Right this way." He led her upstairs and to a somewhat small bedroom with a twin-sized bed. "I don't usually have guests... The bed isn't meant for two people, but you're tiny. We'll make it work."

Angela smiled up at him and leaned her body against his chest, wrapping her arms around him and closing her eyes. She was so lucky to have him.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" Dwight wondered as he hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Or do you want to just go to sleep? Whatever you need-"

"I'm fine. We can lie down," she suggested. "I don't need anything but you."

Dwight nodded and climbed into the bed with her. He pulled the blankets up over them both and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she snuggled close against his chest.

"You gonna call in sick tomorrow?" Dwight wondered.

"No." Angela shook her head. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"I'm sure Michael would understand-" Dwight began.

"No," Angela interrupted. "I don't want him to understand. I don't want people to know about this... and the second _he_ knows, everyone's going to know. I'm just going to pretend like nothing happened. I don't want people being weird."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Dwight wondered as he absent-mindedly twirled a bit of her hair between his fingers. "What happened is pretty serious... It might be good for people at work to know."

"It's none of their business, and the killer doesn't ever go after people who know each other or who are related in any way. He's probably already moved on to someone none of us even know exists," Angela noted. She frowned as she pulled herself closer against Dwight. As far as she knew, no one else had ever come face to face with the strangler and lived to talk about it. What if he didn't like that she'd escaped? What if he tried again? Maybe he considered her a loose end that needed taken care of. Or it could possibly not even be the same person who'd been strangling other people around Scranton. There was no definitive proof that all the murders were all caused by one culprit...

"It wouldn't hurt to have support from people at work. You could get days off... maybe have people willing to walk you to your car," Dwight noted.

Angela shook her head. "That's exactly what I _don't_ want. I can walk to my car by myself. I don't need people acting weird."

"I'm sure people wouldn't judge you or anything if you just-" Dwight went on.

"No, Dwight," Angela interrupted. "No one needs to know. The strangler will move on, and so will I. There's no reason to tell anybody. He'll forget all about me, and I want to forget it too. I'm sure the next victim will be in the news in a week or two."

"Not if I can help it," Dwight disagreed. "If I have my way, he'll never go after anyone again."

"Don't do anything crazy, Dwight." Angela frowned. "This guy violently kills people as a hobby. He's really strong too... Trust me on that."

"I'm also strong." She could hear a frown in Dwight's voice, as if he was now feeling competitive with the strangler. "I could kill people twice as fast as he does if I wanted to. Probably one-handed."

Angela shuddered and pulled herself closer against him. She didn't want to think about anyone strangling anyone. "Don't say that," she requested in a small voice.

"Sorry, Monkey." He petted the back of her head and hugged her close. "You know I wouldn't really kill anyone. Besides, we both know that if I wanted to, I'd have successfully done it many times by now."

Closing her eyes, Angela ignored his words. He didn't always know the right thing to say, but he certainly knew how to make her feel safe with him anyway. As long as she was here in his arms, she knew nothing would happen to her.

 _ **xxxxx**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**This is a shorter chapter. Hope you all don't mind. That's just how it worked out:**_

 _ **xxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 _ **xxxxx**_

Dwight stared down at Angela as she slept next to him. As the sun was rising and light began to pour into the room through his open curtains, he realized he'd accidentally stayed up all night. He and Angela hadn't made it home until one or two in the morning, so he wouldn't have had much time to sleep anyway, but even after everything had calmed and quieted down, he found he was too angry to sleep.

For quite some time now, he had been frustrated with the police failing to catch the Scranton Strangler, but now it was personal. The police's failure had nearly cost Angela her life. This person had killed seven people already and the cops seemed nowhere near close to finding and stopping him. How many victims did they need before they figured it out? How much evidence was there at this point? Why were they failing so spectacularly when people's lives were at risk and they had an entire seven different example murders to work with? This guy gave them seven different chances to find him, and they still hadn't done so? Was this case not a top priority?

He frowned as he watched Angela peacefully sleeping against his chest. She had been so close to being killed. What if he hadn't made plans to meet up with her? It was only pure luck that they'd decided to meet and that their meeting time had been exactly when it was. If he'd have shown up as little as two minutes later, or if the strangler had shown up as little as two minutes earlier, this could have ended so much worse. He sighed and shook his head slightly as he thought about this. Just a couple minutes one way or the other and his precious love would have been gone forever.

Carefully, Dwight ran his hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She snuggled closer to him, but still seemed to be asleep. He put his hand softy against her cheek and moved his fingers slowly down over her neck, gently tracing finger-shaped bruises. It made him furious to know that this person thought he had the right to take other people's lives - that he'd seen Angela and had decided that whatever compulsion he had to kill was more important to him than Angela's right to continue living.

In her sleep, Angela reached her hand up toward Dwight's and made a small, distressed sound. Dwight squeezed her tiny hand lightly in his larger one. "It's just me, Monkey," he told her in a low voice.

He didn't know if she was grabbing at his hand just because she was asleep and unconsciously annoyed by something touching her skin or if she was dreaming about what she'd experienced and thought his hand belonged to the person who'd tried to kill her. Either way, he decided to hold her hand instead of continuing to run his fingers over the bruises.

As he carefully squeezed her hand in his, she squeezed back, but continued sleeping. He honestly felt like a monumental failure right now. Men were supposed to protect their mates. In nature, a male who didn't keep a close watch on his mate wouldn't have a mate anymore. It was his duty to keep Angela safe. How had he screwed this up so horribly? He'd told her to keep her doors locked. Everyone was on-edge with the strangler out on the loose... Had the guy forced his way in? Maybe he'd shown up and Angela thought it was Dwight at her door and had opened it without thinking anything was amiss. He hadn't ever actually asked her those details.

Dwight watched as Angela began to stir awake. She blinked a few times as she stared up at the ceiling before turning more onto her side and looking up at Dwight with a somewhat forced-looking smile. "Hi," she spoke in a small, raspy voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi." Dwight couldn't help but to offer her a very genuine smile back. Even though he knew she was emotionally and physically hurting right now, seeing her smiling and hearing her voice - even if it was strained - made him happy. He was so grateful that she was okay.

"What time is it?" she wondered as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

Dwight sat up too and glanced toward the window. He'd taught himself to tell the time within ten minutes of accuracy based on the position of the sun, shadows, and other such factors dependent on the time of year. "About six forty," he guessed.

Angela exhaled. "I should go take a shower before work."

"Are you sure you don't want to call in sick?" Dwight frowned. "You don't even have to say why... You get sick days without having to explain. I haven't ever personally taken any, but Jim does it all the time. I'm convinced he just wakes up and doesn't feel like coming in to work and calls in even if he's not sick... And don't even get me started on Ryan. If they can call in sick whenever they want to, you can do it just once."

"I'm not doing that, Dwight. But we do need to come up with a story because they're going to ask a lot of questions. I want to have something ready to answer them with," she suggested. "I'll just say I have a sore throat to explain this..." She gestured toward her throat as a way to indicate she was referencing her strained voice. "People are going to wonder why I'm coming to work in your car too... And I'm not going home alone tonight either. They'll notice that I'm coming and going with you."

Dwight nodded. "We can tell them your house was flooded, or had a gas leak, or caught fire, or was invaded by hostile bats."

"We'll say a pipe burst and it flooded," she agreed.

"You might want to wear a scarf or turtleneck," Dwight added, grimacing as she stared back at him with wide eyes as though not immediately understanding what he was talking about. "To cover the bruises..." he added with a frown.

Angela's mouth opened slightly, but she closed it and pouted as she brought her fingertips up toward her neck. She continued staring silently at Dwight for a few seconds. "Do I look terrible?" she asked in a small voice as tears filled her eyes.

"No." Dwight shook his head. "You look beautiful. They're just bruises. They'll go away. You're still stunning."

Angela smiled at him as she stood up. "Thanks, Dwight."

Dwight stood as well, nodded and smiled back. "The shower's right across the hall," he told her. "Would you like me to make you breakfast?"

"Sure," she agreed with a small smile. "No meat though," she reminded him.

"I know," Dwight insisted. They'd eaten together often enough that he knew by now that she was a vegetarian. The whole office knew - even people she didn't like knew that about her. Michael invited the entire office to various meals and parties so often that everyone was starting to know quite a bit about each other's dining preferences.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Dwight." Angela gripped his hands with hers, stood up on her toes, and leaned upward for a kiss.

Dwight bent down slightly and offered her a simple, gentle kiss and then leaned back, smiling down at her. "It's no problem at all, Monkey," he insisted.

Angela squeezed his hands with hers and then headed off toward the shower.

As Dwight made his way downstairs, he exhaled tiredly. He loved spending time with Angela. He loved that she was here at his house and that she was letting him cook for her. He'd even enjoyed cuddling with her in his bed, even without the usual sex. He did not, however, feel at all okay with the circumstances which brought her here.

Dwight had to find and stop the guy who'd attacked Angela, both for revenge and as a preventative measure. While he wanted to stop the strangler for the same obvious reasons anyone would - to save lives, he also couldn't help but to want to solve the case for his own biased reasons. He wanted this guy to suffer for what he did to Angela. Dwight had never felt so passionate about any other woman, and this awful human being had nearly taken her away from him permanently. He'd never wanted to enact revenge more in his entire life than he did right now.

He also didn't want to risk the possibility of him coming back to finish the job. As far as Dwight knew, there were no other victims who survived. The strangler could very likely not feel good about leaving any survivors. Even though she'd already talked to the police, the strangler might desire to come back - either to keep her from talking more, or just so he wouldn't feel like he'd failed. Dwight couldn't let that happen. If the police couldn't handle the job, he'd just have to do it for them.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	5. Chapter 5

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 _ **Chapter 5**_

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Dwight yawned as he scrolled through internet pages on his computer. He'd slept for exactly zero hours last night and now had to get through a day of work. He was usually a very dedicated employee and wouldn't dream of conducting personal business while on the clock, but this was a special circumstance. Nothing was more important than catching the Scranton Strangler. It was for the good of the entire city.

On his screen, he looked at a page which had descriptions, photos, and bios of each of the victims thus far. It was the most thorough page he'd come across yet. It included an approximation of the weight and heights of each victim along with detailed physical descriptions, many photos of each of them, and their homes marked on a map. Whoever had made this page seemed to be trying to do the police's job for them - just like Dwight was now compelled to do.

The author had written theories on how the strangler chose his victims and had even mapped out areas where they figured the killer might live or work. Dwight didn't necessarily agree with their analysis though. They seemed to think the killer lived in the middle of all of his victims, but Dwight noticed a lot more of the victims were on one side of the map. The two on the other side of town had probably been flukes.

He did agree with how this person seemed to think the victims were chosen - to an extent. They were all fairly small. Only two of the victims had been men - an older guy who looked no taller than five foot six, and a younger man in his twenties, who was thin and just looked weak overall. The victims seemed random, but not entirely so. He chose people he knew he could overpower.

"Did you hear that guy tried to kill someone else last night?" Meredith spoke up from behind him. She had been walking by and his research had caught her eye, apparently. "Whoever it was got away. I hear she kicked his ass, but he ran off and the police haven't found him."

Dwight scoffed and minimized the window on his screen. That information wasn't even accurate. "Get back to work, Meredith," he suggested as he picked up his phone and began dialing. He wasn't going to talk to her about this. It wasn't a fun little gossip game. It was serious.

Meredith shrugged and walked away, but seemed to have attracted Kelly's attention. Dwight couldn't help but to listen to the two women talking while he waited for the person he was calling to answer.

"They haven't released a name yet, but yeah. I heard that too," Kelly whispered to the older woman. "The lady on the news said the strangler broke into someone's house and tried to kill them, but the victim fought back and somehow got away! Maybe they'll like ID the killer or something and he'll finally get caught. I don't think anyone else has ever been attacked and actually lived."

 _"Scranton Police Department. This is Abigail,"_ a woman's voice spoke through the phone, bringing Dwight's attention back to the task at hand.

"Good morning, Abby. This is Dwight Schrute, Volunteer Sheriff's Deputy. Could you transfer me to Ken, please?" Dwight responded.

 _"Good morning, Dwight. Let me see if he's available..."_ She sounded somewhat annoyed, but was clearly trying to be polite as she put him on hold.

Dwight focused back on Meredith's and Kelly's conversation while he waited.

"...Well, I hope the police are keeping a close watch on the victim. In my experience, once someone tries to kill you and fails, they aren't satisfied just dropping it," Meredith told her. "The killer's probably going to come back to finish the poor woman off. Trust me. I was dating this guy once-"

"A guy you were dating tried to kill you!?" Kelly gasped.

"No. He tried to kill this other guy I was dating," Meredith clarified. "It was wild."

Dwight's attention was drawn back into his phone call when he heard Ken's voice addressing him. _"Morning, Dwight. What can I do for you today?"_ he asked.

"I need all the information you have on the Scranton Strangler and each of his victims," Dwight requested. "Photocopies of every single file you have on the case. I'll know if you leave anything out, so don't even try it."

 _"Dwight, I can't do that,"_ Ken told him. _"Leave this to the professionals. We'll find him."_

"You've done a great job so far," Dwight mocked. "Bring the case file to our usual meeting spot. Are you free for an early lunch? I'd like to get a move on this as soon as possible." Dwight frowned as he looked over and noticed Jim staring at him with raised eyebrows. Dwight shook his head and rolled his eyes as he attempted to ignore Jim's confused stare. "How does ten thirty sound?"

 _"Dwight, you know I can't just give you that information. I know you're feeling personally affected by this, but you're going to have to leave it up to us. We'll catch the him,"_ Ken promised. _"I know you're upset since he attacked your girlfriend. I get that-"_

"You are misinterpreting our relationship," Dwight defensively cut in. He glared at Jim, happy his co-worker could only eavesdrop on Dwight's side of this conversation.

 _"At any rate, our officers talked to her. We've got some good leads. I know it's frustrating to have to wait and let someone else handle it, but we're getting closer. Your... friend... has been very helpful. She told us a lot,"_ Ken informed him.

Dwight frowned. "Like what?" Angela had barely offered Dwight any information at all when he'd asked.

 _"I can't tell you,"_ Ken persisted. _"Just leave it to us. Let us do our job. Every second I'm on the phone with you, I'm not working on the case. We'd get a lot more done if we didn't have to keep having this conversation with you."_

"You owe me, Ken." Dwight finally brought up the reason he knew Ken wouldn't really be able to deny his request. A long time ago, Ken and Dwight had been closer friends. Dwight knew a lot about Ken, including some dirty secrets that would probably get him fired. They'd made a deal several years ago that Ken owed Dwight three favors in exchange for Dwight's silence. "This is one of the three," Dwight told him, knowing the other man would know what he was referring to.

 _"This could get me fired, Dwight."_ Ken's voice sounded like he was frowning.

"I know of a few other things that could get you fired too," Dwight noted.

Ken sighed loudly into the phone before finally reluctantly agreeing. _"I'll be there."_

"Ten thirty?" Dwight confirmed.

 _"Yes,"_ Ken answered.

Dwight smiled and hung up the phone. That wasn't nearly as difficult as it could have been.

"What's that all about, Dwight?" Jim wondered with a sarcastic smirk. "Sounds super-illegal."

"It's about none of your business, Jim." Dwight scowled at him. He glanced down at his watch and then shrugged into his jacket. "I'm going on a sales call," he told his co-worker.

"You sure?" Jim frowned. "You're gonna miss Michael's 'what to do if you're being strangled' seminar. I'm sure it's going to be full of very useful tips. Can't afford to miss this one, Dwight. I hear it's good stuff. Even better than blackmailing cops."

Dwight stared back. "I already know what do if I'm being strangled. And the strangler wouldn't come after me anyway. I'm too strong. I don't fit his victim profile."

"I thought-" Jim started.

"You thought wrong," Dwight interrupted. "Pay attention, Jim. He clearly goes after the physically weak... Keep an eye on the women while I'm gone. You're all going to get yourselves killed..." Dwight scoffed and stood from his desk.

"Dwight, where are you going?" Michael interrupted him as he made his way past reception. "I was about to call everyone into the conference room for a safety course. It's really important..."

"That sounds very appropriate, Michael, but you are well-aware that I am more than capable already." Dwight nodded and offered a tight smile. "I don't need any more training, so I'm going on an important sales call instead. I'm already a self-defense expert."

"Yeah... I guess so," Michael agreed with a nod and a frown. "You know karate and all that stuff... The strangler probably wouldn't even dare to mess with you. Or me. I know a lot of karate too. I saw it on youtube. Taught myself." He smiled as though proud of this.

"That sounds very impressive, Michael. Pass on your knowledge to our underlings. I'll be back in an hour or so." Dwight clapped him on the shoulder and went toward the door.

As he left, he heard Michael shouting for everyone to meet in the conference room. He hoped whatever his boss was about to teach the staff would be useful. They really did need to be careful and to be ready for anything. To be safe, however, he was probably going to have to teach Angela self-defense on his own time if she'd be receptive to it. He was fairly confident he knew much more about this than Michael did. Angela deserved to know the right way to defend herself - not Michael's interpretation of whatever he'd read on the internet.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks for the continued support. :) We're back to the more medium-long chapters now... This one is at least. I actually don't remember how long the next one is... Anyway, enjoy:**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 6**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Crossing her arms over her chest, Angela positioned herself along the wall, near the front of her group of co-workers. Even though she was fairly certain whatever Michael was about to show them was going to be something ridiculous, she still wanted to be able to see. It seemed that without fail any time she sat any further back, someone who was practically a giant would plop themselves down in front of her - not even noticing that their massive shoulders were entirely blocking her view. People in this office were so inconsiderate.

"Good morning," Michael greeted everyone as the last of them filed into the room.

"Do we have to be here for this?" Stanley grumbled as he paced toward the back of the room. He was working on a crossword puzzle, as usual. Angela didn't know why he was so bothered by Michael's antics considering his nose was in that crossword book no mater where he was. What difference did it make whether he did his puzzles in here or at his desk? He even did them at lunch. He never stopped.

"You do, Stanley. This is important for all of us," Michael told him. "You've all probably heard by now that the Scranton Strangler struck again last night. His attacks are becoming closer and closer together. He might kill someone again as early as tonight for all we know. It's more important now than ever that we all know what to do if we come face to face with this guy."

Angela silently looked around the room, nervous that maybe someone would have heard more than she hoped. No one was looking her way. They didn't know.

"And you think you're the best one to speak on the subject?" Stanley frowned back at Michael.

"The best in this office," Michael told him.

"I heard the victim got away this time," Kelly interrupted.

"Did they catch the killer then?" Phyllis wondered. "Did the victim ID him or anything?"

"No," Michael cut in. "I mean, not that I've heard. But that doesn't matter. I've got a plan that'll make us all pretty much immune to being murdered. It occurred to me yesterday, when I saw all your sweet, innocent faces watching the news, that each of you is very ill-prepared for the day that you are viciously attacked by a murderer."

Angela frowned. He was right, in a way... Angela hadn't been prepared at all to fight back against the strangler. She doubted Michael had anything valuable to teach on this topic though. Maybe a real self-defense class could be useful... though Angela kind of doubted anything she did short of shooting the man in the head would have stopped him last night. He was so terrifyingly strong, and she was so small.

"So yesterday afternoon and this morning, I've been working on becoming a certified self-defense teacher. Now that I'm an expert, I feel it is my duty to pass on my knowledge to you," Michael went on.

"How did you become certified in one day, Michael?" Phyllis wondered.

Michael hesitated for a moment as he stared back at her. "Online course," he answered.

"How do you get certified to teach self defense with an online course that only takes a day to complete?" Oscar crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "Doesn't that kind of thing require actually physically practicing and being critiqued by a legitimate instructor?"

"It's all about credit hours," Michael explained. "You need a certain number of hours of training, and since I worked hard, long days, I got it done fast. I have twelve, maybe even twenty hours of training. It's all I've been doing all day, and I spent the whole afternoon yesterday training too."

"Training online?" Jim looked somewhat amused, but also annoyed. "Doing what exactly?"

"Stop interrupting, and I'll show you." Michael was clearly becoming agitated by everyone questioning his skill set. "I need a volunteer."

Everyone stared silently back at him.

"Come on. Somebody volunteer..." Michael sighed as he looked over his employees. When no one spoke up, he exhaled a long, aggravated breath. "No volunteers? Seriously?" He stared at them for a few more silent, awkward seconds. "Fine... We'll do it democratically. Everybody vote on who you think is most likely to be strangled to death. Let's start with those who need this training most."

"I vote Pam," Meredith spoke up. "She's too nice to fight back, so she'd be most likely to die."

Pam stared back at Meredith with her mouth hanging open in shock.

"See? She couldn't even bring herself to deny it," Meredith persisted. "If someone tried to murder her, she'd probably just let them so she wouldn't risk hurting their feelings."

"That's true, Pam," Michael noted. "You're a serial killer's dream. Raise your hand if you vote Pam for best victim."

Meredith and Creed raised their hands. Angela had a feeling most people weren't going to play along with this game. She certainly wasn't going to give anyone her vote. That was just cruel. She had a lot of contempt for these people, but she knew better than to participate in something so offensive.

"I think Angela would be a better victim," Kevin interjected. "She's the littlest one here."

"Shut up, Kevin." Angela glared at him as she spoke in an unusually scratchy-sounding voice.

"He's right, Angela. You are the smallest. You'd be the easiest to kill." Michael nodded. "Raise your hand if you vote for Angela for best victim."

Creed raised his hand again, as did Kevin.

Michael shrugged and raised his hand up too, laughing slightly when Angela scowled at him. "Looks like a majority to me, Angela. Get up here." Michael made a waving gesture with his hand.

"No," Angela declined.

"Aw, come on," Michael begged. "It's just pretend... and you need this training more than anyone."

"I said no, Michael." Angela scowled at him.

"You sure? It only takes a couple minutes to be strangled to death. You're gonna want to know this," Michael continued.

"No." Angela raised her voice.

"She's not feeling well, Michael. Leave her alone. Why don't you just tell us what to do if we're ever being strangled, and we'll use the information however we want to," Phyllis suggested.

"Alright." Michael frowned. "Pam? Come on up, second-best victim."

Angela offered Phyllis a very small smile. Phyllis smiled back. She'd asked Angela earlier why her voice was so hoarse and Angela had told her she was coming down with something. Even though Phyllis didn't really know the real story, Angela appreciated that her colleague was willing to help her out, especially since the two of them weren't exactly best friends around here.

Pam looked nervous as she shrunk down slightly in her chair and looked to Jim for guidance. Jim offered a small tight-lipped smile and shook his head, silently suggesting that she not play along with Michael's game.

"What about _me_?" Kelly spoke up with a frown. "Doesn't anyone think _I'd_ be a good victim?"

Most people stared at her silently. Creed shrugged and kind of nodded. "A good serial killer would take down all three of 'em, you included, kiddo." He smiled and winked at Kelly.

"But I'd be the _best_ victim though, right? Better than Pam or Angela," she persisted with a scoff and an eye roll, getting oddly defensive that no one had suggested her as the ideal candidate to be violently murdered. "What about you, Ryan?" Kelly pushed his shoulder slightly. "You'd kill me if you were a serial killer, right? I'm small and cute. Lots of people would love to murder me."

"Sure," Ryan agreed and then offered a grimace and a shrug to everyone else in the room. "Um... Of course I'd kill you..."

Kelly grinned and wrapped her arms around him.

"We have a volunteer!" Michael clapped excitedly.

Somehow Kelly was taking this as a compliment and made her way proudly up to the front of the room.

"Alright, so Kelly and I are going to demonstrate what to do in the event that you are attacked. And Kelly, remember this is a demonstration. Don't really fight back," Michael added with a somewhat nervous frown.

Kelly nodded and smiled as she awaited Michael's instructions.

"Okay, you stand here." He put his hands on her shoulders and positioned her so that she was facing her co-workers. "Now, I'm the strangler, and I'm gonna come up behind you. If someone comes up behind you, you grab their arm and pull them over your shoulder and throw them to the ground. It's all about leverage."

"I think I've seen Batman try this technique," Jim noted.

Pam giggled next to him, but was clearly trying to keep her expression serious.

Kelly frowned. "I don't think I can do that."

"Well, no... I don't really want you to. Just act like you're going to," Michael explained.

"No, I mean, what if a real killer attacks me? I won't be able to do it," Kelly told him. "I can't lift somebody over my shoulder, Michael. This sounds like a self defense technique for a professional wrestler or something."

"Well, you'd..." Michael hesitated. "Let's just improvise. So I come up behind you like this..." He put his hands lightly on her neck and started speaking in a weird, low voice. "I'm the Scranton Strangler. I'm gonna kill you, little girl! I'm gonna strangle you and kill you!"

Angela pouted as she watched her boss handle this completely inappropriately. Kelly seemed confused. She didn't know what Michael wanted her to do. She remained still and silent as Michael continued saying creepy things and pretending to strangle her.

"I'm gonna snap your little neck, woman. I'm killing you, Kelly. You better do something," he continued in his disguised voice.

"What do I do?" Kelly shrugged.

"Elbow him in the stomach," Jim suggested.

Kelly nodded and did as instructed, a little more forcefully than Michael seemed to expect.

Michael coughed and grabbed at the spot she'd elbowed. "I said don't really do it!" he exclaimed. "But yeah... See? That worked pretty well. That hurt... So when you get attacked from behind, elbow them in the stomach. That'll work. We just proved it. Now let's show them what to do if they're attacked from the front," Michael suggested as he turned Kelly around and wrapped his hands very loosely around her neck. "Argh! I'm the Scranton Strangler! Gonna murder you, Kelly!" He sounded more like he was trying to mimic a cartoon pirate than anything.

"I don't know... I could just shove you, like this." Kelly pushed lightly against Michael's chest.

"Nope. That wouldn't work. I'm a big strong murderer. You're just a little defenseless girl. You're gonna have to think of something better," Michael suggested. "You better think fast. You're almost dead."

"Knee him between the legs," Jim suggested.

"No!" Michael quickly let go of Kelly in favor of guarding his crotch. "No... I mean, yes in real life, if you're really being attacked. Yeah... That would probably do the trick," he laughed.

Angela scowled at him. He meant well, but this was useless. In a real situation, there was no time to think all of this through, and the strangler would probably account for all of these possible means of fighting back before his victim had a chance to try them. When he'd attacked Angela, he grabbed her arms first, so she couldn't fight back. She couldn't think of any way she could have been better prepared unless she had a weapon or pepper spray in her hand. But it simply wasn't reasonable to carry around weapons at all times.

"Okay, time for a test. You're walking around. You don't know I'm there..." Michael spoke.

Kelly nodded and turned away from him. She began humming and looking up and to the side like she was outside looking blissfully at clouds.

"Grraaaahh!" Michael made a weird growling sound as he jumped toward her and grabbed her shoulders from behind. "I'm attacking you! Aaarrrggh! I'm the strangler! Save yourself!"

"I'd grab your arm like this," Kelly explained, grabbing his hand. "And then I'd pull you off to the side like this." She tugged at his arm, but he didn't budge at all. "But, you know, you'd move. I didn't put all my strength into it." She shrugged.

"Very good, Kelly. That's really cool." Michael seemed genuinely impressed. "I didn't know you were that strong. Can you really do that?"

"Yep." Kelly nodded.

"Can we go back to work now?" Stanley complained.

"I want you all to be ready to show me how you'd fight back if someone unexpectedly attacked you," Michael told them. He paused and let his eyes scan everyone in the room. "Like this!" he shouted as he jumped toward Angela, gripping her upper arms.

Without thinking about it, Angela screamed as she flinched back. Also without thinking about it, she quickly reached up and slapped him across the face. His grip wasn't rough... and she knew it was him - she knew Michael wouldn't ever actually hurt anyone... But jumping at her out of nowhere like that had been startling. It was instinctual to react, and her natural reaction was to scream and strike out at him.

As soon as she did so, however, she regretted it. She knew he meant no harm, and as soon as the initial shock wore off, she realized she had just slapped her boss. "I'm sorry, Michael," she spoke in a small voice as she stared up at him. He had his hand over his face where she'd hit him and his other hand still on her arm.

Several people had audibly gasped, and everyone in the room was looking at them.

"We probably need to not do this anymore, Michael," Toby spoke up from the back of the room.

"Yeah, maybe randomly attacking us as a test isn't a great idea," Jim noted.

"Okay," Michael agreed. "You can all go back to work... Remember what I taught you," he called as they began to silently file out of the room. "I think this has been a very valuable meeting. Stay safe, guys." He was clearly trying to act like Angela's slap hadn't hurt him, but his voice shook very slightly and he still held his hand over his cheek.

"Thanks for the tips, Michael," Pam spoke in a small voice as she walked out of the room and back toward reception.

The employees continued making their way back toward their desks until Toby, Michael, and Angela were the only ones left in the room. Angela was still staring at Michael and his hand was still lightly on her arm while his other rubbed his sore cheek. She felt guilty for hitting him. To put it nicely, the man was an idiot most of the time, and wasn't ever afraid of displaying that fact... but she knew he meant well, and she would have never actually slapped him - especially not that hard, if she weren't so on-edge.

"We should talk about this," Toby suggested.

Michael glanced toward Toby and sighed. "This doesn't involve you, Toby. Why do you always have to do this?"

"It's my job, Michael..." Toby frowned. "There are certain boundaries you don't cross in a professional setting... You keep crossing them. This whole meeting was inappropriate... You were already over the line... And then there's another line way past the first line and you just crossed that one too. You can't pretend to attack your employees - especially if they weren't expecting it. It was bad enough what you were demonstrating with Kelly..."

"I'm trying to save lives, Toby." Michael scowled back at him. "Do you want these people to die?"

"Of course not, Michael, but when you pretend to attack your employees and they aren't expecting it, it's hard to even say it was pretend anymore - because it wasn't pretend to the other person. This isn't something to joke about," Toby told him.

Angela stood awkwardly between them as they talked. Toby was right - Michael's training program was a horrible, inappropriate idea. Pretending to attack your co-workers and improvising ways to fight back was unprofessional and potentially dangerous. But she also could see that Michael had no ill intent behind this whole thing. He tried to do the right thing. He was just an idiot and never knew what the right thing to do was.

She bit her lower lip as she looked up at her boss. He looked genuinely betrayed by her reaction to his poorly conceived idea of a training program. She could be pretty critical of his dumb ideas, but she'd never slapped him before. "Michael, I'm really sorry... I didn't expect you to do that... I _am_ sorry," she emphasized. "But don't ever jump at me and grab me like that."

"Okay..." Michael nodded. "That's fair... I understand. I'll tell you in advance next time."

"No. Don't tell me in advance. I'm not one of your volunteers. I don't want you to ever pretend like you're murdering me," Angela persisted. "I absolutely do not want to be involved in that kind of demonstration or training. _Ever._ "

"Alright... I get it. I took it too far, maybe," Michael agreed with a slight nod.

"Yeah, Michael. You did." Toby spoke up. "Maybe you can leave self-defense training to people who are qualified."

"I _am_ qualified!" Michael persisted.

"I mean like _actually_ qualified." Toby frowned.

"If watching hours of self-defense youtube videos doesn't make me qualified, I don't know what would." Michael frowned.

"Maybe a class." Toby shrugged. "I actually know some self-defense tactics, and if you want, I could-"

"No!" Michael interrupted. "God... Anything but that. I'd actually rather die. I would legitimately rather be dead, Toby. Legitimately. I even wanna die just thinking about that. God..." Michael exhaled and looked away like he was in physical pain from Toby's suggestion.

"Can I go?" Angela asked. "I'm fine with all this...It was a misunderstanding. I'm fine just shrugging it off. Sounds like you can have the rest of this conversation without me."

"If you don't want to file any sort of complaint, you can go," Toby told her. "You do have that option though, if you want it. Misunderstanding or not, your boss isn't allowed to jump out and grab you and pretend like he's going to kill you. You can file a complaint if you want to."

Angela shook her head. For once, she didn't want to file a complaint. No one in the office ever did file complaints against Michael, even though they would have been perfectly justified doing so, because they all sort of just understood that Michael's actions didn't match his intentions. It was difficult to be angry with him for doing something offensive when he was honestly trying to be helpful.

"I'm sorry, Angela. I didn't mean to scare you." Michael frowned.

"It's okay," she assured him. It wasn't his fault she was so on-edge, but she couldn't tell him that. Of course, she had to admit that even on a normal day, she wouldn't have responded well to that gesture. She really just wanted to move on and not have people wondering if her reaction meant anything. She didn't want to make this into a big deal.

"You can come talk to me later if you want to, Angela," Toby offered.

"She won't want to, Toby. God," Michael scoffed. "Stop trying to force people to go to your stupid therapy sessions."

"It's not therapy, Michael... Angela, you can talk to me if you want. You don't have to, but regardless of anything Michael says, you do have that option," Toby rephrased.

"Okay." Angela nodded and silently made her way out of the conference room, avoiding all the awkward stares from her co-workers. She walked back to her desk and sat down, exhaling and closing her eyes.

"You alright, Angela?" Oscar wondered.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You looked scared when Michael pretended to be the strangler," Kevin told her. "Did you think he really _was_ the strangler? Because I don't think he is, Angela... It _could_ be someone in the office though. I kind of think it's Dwight."

Angela felt her shoulders slump as she stared through the partition at him. "It's not anyone in the office, idiot." She scowled at him.

"She's right, Kevin. The chances of it being anyone here are statistically pretty slim," Oscar agreed.

"Why's your voice so scratchy, Angela?" Kevin asked.

"I have a sore throat. I'm coming down with a cold or something," Angela lied.

"You've been acting really weird today," Kevin noted. "You seem jumpy and more nervous than mean. Normally you're really mean, and I guess you kind of are still mean, but you're also acting weird... You told Michael you were sorry after he attacked you. I think if that had been me, I wouldn't be sorry. I'd be mad at him for scaring me. But I wouldn't have been scared though."

Angela exhaled and stared at him. Leave it to the person she considered the absolute least observant and least able to connect the dots in any given situation to be the first to start accusing her of hiding something.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Oscar was now giving her a funny look as well, but he didn't say anything. She could tell he was thinking about what Kevin had said and drawing his own conclusions.

"I'm just tired," she insisted. "Because I'm sick," she added.

"Sick with what?" Kevin asked.

"Sore throat, Kevin. How many times do I have to say it?" Angela was starting to feel agitated.

"I've had a sore throat before, and I wouldn't have screamed if Michael pretended to be the strangler," Kevin noted.

"Because you're a mountain, Kevin, and the strangler is no threat to you." Angela glared at him. It was hard for her to not feel deeply offended by him joking about this, even though he had no idea of the truth about her connection to this whole thing.

"That's harsh, Angela," Oscar noted with a raised eyebrow.

"You're just mad because I said you would be the best victim," Kevin guessed. "But I'm right. If I was going to strangle someone to death, I'd pick the smallest person I could find, and around here, that's you. Not that I want to strangle someone... I mean, not _literally_. I do wanna _figuratively_ strangle you sometimes since you're mean to me, and since you're so little, I know I could if I wanted to."

Angela stared across her desk. Like Michael, Kevin meant no harm, but what he'd just said was incredibly offensive and verging on threatening. If she didn't know him better, that comment would have almost been scary. But even knowing he was harmless, his words angered her. "I don't have to listen to this," she growled as she pushed her chair back rather forcefully and stood. She had no plan of where to go, but she didn't want to be with these people anymore, so she stormed past reception and out into the hall.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Oh, wow... This one is really short too. I guess my Angela chapters are mostly longer than my Dwight ones... I guess you can probably tell who my favorite character is...**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 7**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

"You absolutely cannot share this information with anyone," Ken spoke as he sat in Dwight's passenger seat. "Not anyone at all, under any circumstance. Just me giving it to you could get me fired and probably sent to prison. If this stuff gets made public, I'm going to be in so much trouble, so please, please at least keep it to yourself."

"I will," Dwight assured him as he looked over the files. He was presently going over Angela's statement. The cops seemed to have asked better questions than he did, because apparently they really did get her to tell them a lot of things Dwight hadn't even asked about. "What's this about a white van?" He frowned and glanced up at Ken. "That was yesterday. They were just lingering in the lot at work? She didn't tell me anything about that..."

"It could be nothing. We asked if she had noticed anything suspicious lately - like anyone out in public seeming out of place, anyone watching or following her - and she brought that up. She only noticed it the one time, so it's not like they were following her around everywhere. It's very possible it had nothing to do with any of this. We're just covering all our bases," Ken told him.

Dwight nodded. People did get turned around sometimes and come into their lot by mistake. Tinted windows sounded pretty suspicious though. "There's a note here that links the van to another of the victims..." he noted with a frown.

"Well, not necessarily the van, but an instance of what appeared to be stalking before the attack. Another of the victims - Cheryl White... Her mother mentioned that Cheryl had said something about a brown car always being parked across from her house in the weeks leading up to her murder, even though the neighbors didn't own such a car. The car was never there anymore once Cheryl was killed. So it's possible the killer was watching her, and possible he uses different cars - so he could have been doing the same thing only with a van this time," Ken explained. "Or, again, the car may have been a coincidence. But we did question the neighbors, and no one owned such a car or had visitors who did... So it's probably connected to the case, but not definitely."

Dwight exhaled. This was a lot of information to take in. He was kind of surprised Ken had given it all up so easily. The guy owed him some favors, but this really was pretty much the worst thing he could do as far as his job was concerned. Dwight would have easily settled for a lot less information and still not spilled any of Ken's secrets. The man hadn't even tried to negotiate a less risky compromise.

Looking through the files some more, Dwight wondered where he should even start. He wished he had been on the case since the beginning. He didn't trust the police's investigation skills. Who knew how accurate all of this stuff even was? Even so, however, at least Dwight had something to work with. Maybe the information wasn't perfect, but it was something. It was a start.

He continued reading carefully over the information pertaining to Angela. It was very disturbing to him, reading over all of these details. Dwight was glad he had the files, but going through them was painful. He really didn't like the thought that this creep may have been watching Angela for days or even weeks prior to attacking her. He didn't like thinking about all the times over the past weeks when she could have easily been killed. Most days, Dwight didn't come over to her house. On all of those days, the strangler could have broken in and actually killed her. No one would have stopped him. It was beyond fortunate that the killer happened to choose to strike on the day and exact time that Dwight came over.

He read over the file some more, noticing that Angela told the cops that someone had rang her doorbell a few minutes before the strangler attacked her - she'd unlocked the door and didn't re-lock it, inadvertently giving the killer easy access. It seemed in other cases the strangler had simply forced his way into people's homes, so unlocking the door didn't really matter. It was interesting that he seemed to try to mess with her before attacking though. Maybe it was his way of checking that she was there or checking that no one else was.

He checked some of the other files, trying to see if any of those victims mentioned being toyed with before their deaths - there would probably be no record, as they were all killed and couldn't report anything that didn't happen further out.

"Wait - this lady was attacked twice?" Dwight nearly gasped as he noticed the very first victim's file. She was a twenty-eight year old woman who lived alone with her dog. She'd been attacked, had gotten away, and had then been killed a month later. The cops figured it was the same person due to the manner of her death. "He came back for her... And you guys just let him." Dwight shook his head as he glared across the seat.

"We didn't _let_ him. That was his first victim." Ken frowned. "Someone tried to strangle her and she fought back and escaped. At that point, there was no notorious Scranton Strangler. We didn't know it was going to become what it has. It seemed like an isolated incident."

Dwight looked back down at the files. The strangler seemed to have a somewhat particular method, but he changed it slightly here and there. He never sexually assaulted or tortured his victims. He just quickly killed them and left without a shred of evidence to indicate his identity. His routine had definitely improved over time though - as evidenced by the changes he'd clearly made. When he attacked his first victim - the one who lived, he didn't bother tying her hands. Ever since that one, all the victims had been found with their wrists tightly bound behind them - including the first victim, the second time she was attacked.

The third victim had been killed in an alley behind a bar. People had heard him screaming and had come to his aid, but had gotten there too late. A few witnesses claim to have seen a tall man dressed all in black fleeing from the scene. No one saw his face and they couldn't ID him. The third victim was also significantly beaten prior to death, which Dwight figured either meant that this one was more personal or that he'd fought back more effectively and had required more force to subdue him. The killer hadn't gone after any men besides one very old, very frail man after that one either. Probably nearly being fought off again made him want to go after weaker people. Everyone else was killed at their homes after the third victim too. Going after this guy in a public place had almost led to failure, so the killer learned from it and didn't do it that way again.

The first woman fighting back taught the killer how to kill better. People hearing the third victim screaming taught him to kill people in more secluded locations. Nearly being fought off by a stronger victim taught him to go after smaller, weaker targets rather than to more indiscriminately choose whoever was around. He was learning and improving his technique after each kill. Even so, he'd failed his most recent endeavor.

Dwight wondered what he'd change in his method now that Angela had escaped. Maybe he'd stalk his victims better and get a better sense of their schedules and relationships. Surely the strangler wouldn't have attacked when he did if he knew Dwight could potentially show up and stop him. Or maybe he'd learn to carry a weapon - to quickly take care of potential boyfriends or girlfriends or other witnesses so that he could have the time he needed with his chosen victim without interruption.

Dwight shook his head as he brought his attention back to the fact that another person besides Angela had escaped from the killer and that another victim had felt like she was being watched prior to her death. The Scranton Strangler was following his victims and watching them before striking - at least some of them anyway... And the first one who escaped didn't escape forever.

"If this guy is stalking victims, and he came back to finish this one off..." He trailed off, thinking more to himself than really trying to talk to Ken. The strangler seemed to choose his victims fairly loosely - he didn't have a particular type, but once he did choose one, he zeroed in on them and didn't stop until they were dead. Letting that first woman live wasn't an option, even though going back for her was riskier than choosing someone new. "He'll come back for her..." Dwight guessed as he looked up from the file with wide eyes. "He's not going to let Angela get away..."

"We offered Miss Martin a protective detail, but she refused," Ken told him with a shrug. "We're keeping a close watch on her house and yours, as our own investigation, but she didn't want us around her constantly. That's her choice, but we are keeping an eye out as best as we can without being right next to her at all times."

"She's safer with me anyway. Obviously." Dwight raised his eyebrow and stared back at Ken. "Seven people have died on your watch. No one's ever died on mine."

Ken sighed and rolled his eyes. "We didn't know it was a serial killer the last time someone was attacked and lived. We know now. We're taking more precautions."

"Like what?" Dwight scoffed. "Watching our houses? She's at work right now. No one there knows what happened. No one's watching out for her. Lot of good watching her house is gonna do while she's not even there. As far as you know, she decided to go to lunch all by herself-" He stopped in mid-sentence. Surely she wouldn't go off alone... It just occurred to him that he really did just leave without telling her. She was most likely safe inside the office with everyone, but what if she did leave for some reason? No one at work knew what had happened. No one knew that they needed to watch her back... "I've got to go," Dwight said. "Get out." He reached across the seat and pulled the door handle, pushing the door open for Ken. "Go. Now."

Ken frowned, but climbed out of the car. "We can send someone over to watch the building. We've got officers checking now and then, looking for the van she mentioned."

Dwight shook his head. They were useless. They'd screwed up so much already, and had cost so many people their lives. At this point, asking for their help seemed like a waste of time. He'd have to keep Angela safe himself, because the cops sure as hell weren't capable.

"I doubt he'd attack her in broad daylight at the office, Dwight." Ken exhaled.

Dwight stared past his passenger seat and out toward Ken, who stood awkwardly next to the car with the door still open. Dwight didn't have time for this. "Close the door," he ordered. "I've got go."

With a shrug, Ken did as instructed. Dwight threw the case files into the passenger seat and started back toward the office. Angela was probably fine. She didn't have any reason to leave by herself, and probably wouldn't want to... But just knowing that he didn't know for sure what she was up to made him nervous. Until Dwight caught this guy, he was going to always make sure Angela was someplace safe. He couldn't afford not to.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 8**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Angela exhaled as she paced across the small room between the hall and reception. She walked up to the window and looked down into the parking lot. Her car, of course, wasn't in the lot, since she'd come here with Dwight. She was starting to feel somewhat trapped. Relying on someone else as heavily as she was relying on Dwight today wasn't preferable. She wanted to be able to leave the office on her own, in her own car if she chose to. Maybe she'd have Dwight take her by her house tonight so she could start driving herself around. They needed to get some work clothing for her for tomorrow anyway.

She sighed as she leaned against the window and closed her eyes, feeling the cold glass against her forehead. She didn't want to be here. She thought she could get through the day just pretending like everything was normal, but everyone was being so irritating, even more than usual. She wasn't sure if they were being more crude and offensive than on a normal day, or if she was just more sensitive to it now. If they joked about the strangler yesterday, it wouldn't have bothered her as much... But they were all talking about it a lot today, and saying exactly the absolute worst things possible.

Still standing in the light of the window, Angela looked down at her wrists. She carefully rolled up her sleeves. Finger-shaped bruises and thin marks from the ropes the strangler had bound her wrists with covered her forearms. The ropes had cut into and scratched her skin but had also somehow bruised it in certain places. Her ordinarily flawless, pale skin looked absolutely dreadful.

Tears filled Angela's eyes as she stared down at her arms and thought about what had happened. This wasn't fair. Out of everyone in the city, why had the strangler chosen her? Was it someone she had come into contact with? Maybe someone who found her rude or cold and wanted to get back at her? Had she accidentally been mean to someone who took it too personally? It could be anyone...

She wasn't exactly friendly toward a lot of people. They annoyed and offended her, and she was quick to let them know it, but maybe someone out there who she had interacted with didn't like that about her and chose that she deserved to die because of it.

Thinking back through the past week or two, she tried to come up with a list of potential suspects. There was the waiter who she hadn't tipped because he got her order wrong three different times and had been texting instead of working. She told his manager that he was on his phone the whole time she was there. The waiter had glared at her as she was leaving. There was the cashier at the grocery store, who had insisted that her bag of cat food wasn't on sale - she'd made him go all the way to the back to check the price and he seemed very annoyed. (She was right though - it _was_ on sale.) There was a guy who tried to flirt with her while she was pumping gas. She'd told him rather bluntly to back off and he had called her a prude.

There were so many people out there who Angela didn't get along with. It was hard to even begin to guess who might be angry enough to kill her, because she made so many people angry. She never really considered that she should be careful who she was harsh with because one of them might be a killer. Was she really going to have to resort to being nice to _everyone_ from now on, just in case? That seemed like a lot of sacrifice on her end. Not everyone deserved for her to be nice to them.

"Angela?" Pam's timid voice called out as she opened the door to the office and stepped out into the hall. "Are you alright?"

Angela winced and turned around, noticing Pam's eyes settling on her wrists for a few seconds before she had time to pull her sleeves back down. "I'm fine, Pam." She blinked back her tears and straightened her posture as she quickly tugged her sleeves all the way down so that they covered her palms and most of her fingers.

Pam's eyes were huge as she continued staring at Angela's wrists, even now that the bruises were covered. "Angela, What happened?" She asked in a small voice. "What are those marks?" She looked really worried. It kind of made Angela feel annoyed. She and Pam weren't friends. Angela didn't need the receptionist to be concerned with this. It had nothing to do with her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Angela scoffed and held her head high. This had nothing to do with Pam and there was no reason the other woman should be concerned with it. If Angela were going to confide in anyone, it sure wouldn't be the office's secretary.

Pam stared back with narrowed eyes for a few long seconds. She seemed to almost be reading Angela's face. "Is that a bruise on your neck?" She finally asked.

Angela reached up toward the collar on her turtleneck sweater and pulled it up further. "No, Pam. I'm sure it's just a shadow. Mind your own business for once."

A look of realization settled over Pam's face. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Angela could tell what Pam was thinking. The secretary was smart enough to put pieces together that many other people might not quickly connect. Pam at the very least suspected exactly what was the truth.

"It's not what you think, Pam," Angela insisted. She didn't want everyone in the office to know about this. Telling Pam would mean that Jim would know too. Those two were constantly talking... And she'd probably tell Roy, and then the whole warehouse would know and then they'd probably talk about it and be overheard by someone else in the office, and it would spiral out of control from there. Someone could go to the press, reporters would want to talk to the only survivor of the notorious Scranton Strangler. She didn't want sympathy or attention or praise... She just wanted to be left alone, by reporters, by her co-workers... by everyone.

"What is it then?" Pam stared back with wide eyes.

"I got into a fight with one of my cats," she lied with a disinterested shrug.

"Is that why you're staying with Dwight? To get away from your cat?" Pam frowned. She didn't look or sound convinced.

"No. The cats all came with me. I'm staying with Dwight because my house caught on fire." Angela scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You said it flooded," Pam reminded her with a skeptical pout. "You came in with Dwight this morning, and Michael made a joke about you two hooking up, and you told him your house was flooded."

"Yeah. After the fire. That's what saved it from burning down." Angela persisted. "Not like it's any of your business."

They both glanced toward the door when they heard what sounded like footfalls in the hall. It sure sounded like someone was running right toward the door.

For a moment, Angela almost felt like her heart stopped. She was understandably on-edge. People didn't just run around in the halls here. It could be the strangler, coming to finish her off. But security would have had to let him in... What if he killed the security guard?

Angela flinched and grabbed Pam's arm, practically hiding behind the other woman as she stared with wide eyes toward the door. She almost screamed as it swung open, but quickly learned that it was just Dwight coming back from his sales call. Why he had felt the need to run was a mystery, but she was glad it was him and not a murderer.

Angela audibly exhaled and let herself relax as she let go of Pam's sleeve and stepped slightly to the side so that she was no longer cowering behind the secretary. "It's just Dwight..." she said in a small voice, more to herself than anyone. She glanced to the side at Pam, who stared at her with furrowed brows.

Dwight looked from Angela to Pam. He was clearly out of breath. "Hello Pam. Angela." He nodded, trying to look calm even though he didn't sound calm. "Everything going okay here? You guys alright?"

Pam frowned, while Angela answered. "Yes, Dwight. Everything's fine."

"Oh... Good... That's good." Dwight exhaled and offered Pam a small smile before putting his hand on Angela's shoulder and pulling her gently toward him. "May I talk to you in the elevator, Angela?" he requested.

"Sure," Angela agreed. She stepped toward the door, but looked back at Pam before walking through. "Don't be spreading lies about me in there, Pam," she warned.

"Okay..." Pam frowned. She looked up at Dwight and then back toward Angela. "I'll see you guys later then..." She turned and walked back into the office while Angela followed Dwight out into the hall and down toward the elevator.

"She saw the bruise on my neck.. and the ones on my arms." Angela frowned. "Kevin and Oscar were acting suspicious too... People are going to find out, Dwight. I think Pam pretty much already knows, and if she knows, she's going to tell Jim and Roy, and Roy will tell everyone in the warehouse. No one around here can keep their mouths shut..." She pouted and felt tears in her eyes. Nearly being killed was a nightmare enough. Having literally everyone she knew aware of that fact, treating her strangely, thinking less of her, teasing her about it or just not knowing what to say to her ever again... She didn't know if she could take it.

Dwight put his arm around her once they were in the elevator where no one could see them. "Even if they do find out, it won't be the end of the world. These people are idiots, but I don't think most of them are actually cruel like that. They worst that'll happen will be that they say something dumb, and they already do that. No one's going to be rude about it," he assured her. "And you've got nothing to be ashamed of either. The strangler could have done the same thing to any one of them."

Angela leaned her head against his chest and looked at the panel of buttons next to the elevator door. She really didn't want everyone to associate her with this - to see her as a victim, to feel sorry for her or make fun of her.

"I've been doing some research," Dwight started as he stood next to her with his arm around her shoulders. "I've learned some new information about the strangler, and I have an idea of how we might catch him."

"We?" Angela frowned and looked up at him. "I don't want to be a part of catching him." She shook her head. "And I don't think you should either. This is dangerous, Dwight. You can't just go after serial killers all on your own. Let the police do it."

"The police are incompetent dolts, Monkey." Dwight spoke in a calm, measured voice as he rubbed his hand carefully over her arm and put his other hand on her cheek. He looked into her eyes and offered a very forced looking smile. "If we leave this up to them, you're going to die."

"What?" Angela stared at him with a frown.

"I have new information on all of the victims. You weren't the only one to survive," Dwight told her.

"Really?" Angela smiled slightly and started to feel optimistic. If someone else escaped, and they were living their normal life now, Angela could reasonably do the same. This wasn't going to haunt her forever. She'd escaped and it was over. The strangler would move on and so could she.

"Yes. And he came back and finished her off a month later." Dwight continued.

Angela's shoulders slumped. "She's dead?" She felt tears welling up in her eyes and her voice shook. For a moment, she had thought maybe this whole thing would slowly become a distant memory, but if the only other person to escape the strangler had been killed anyway, what was going to happen to her? The cops were nowhere near finding this guy. She couldn't ID him. His face had been obscured. He was wearing gloves. There would be no finger prints left behind. No new evidence. She'd barely offered them any information that they didn't already know. Until the cops found this guy - which could very likely be never - she was going to always have to wonder if he was watching her, planning to strike again, waiting for the perfect moment to finish the job. Angela was never going to feel safe again.

"Yes, she's dead." Dwight offered a sympathetic smile and a slight nod. "It was the very first victim - before the cops even knew they were dealing with a serial killer. He attacked her, she fought back, and she got away. He came back and killed her a month later. That's why he ties his victims' wrists behind their backs now. He didn't used to."

Angela stared through her tears up at Dwight. He didn't seem as upset by this information as she felt. "What am I going to do?" She sniffed back tears. "If he killed the other lady who survived, he's going to kill me too. I can't stay with you forever. Someday I'm going to be someplace alone. I can't live my life like this, always wondering if he's watching me..." She choked out a sob and buried her face in her hands. She could see no other end to this than her death. If the cops couldn't find the strangler after a year of looking, why would they now?

"It's okay," Dwight assured her. He moved in front of her and put his hands on her arms, rubbing them softly up and down. "Don't cry... If anything, this'll make finding him easier, and trust me; there's no way I'm going to let anything happen to you. You're not leaving my sight until he's in police custody. You can stay with me as long as it takes."

"You're never going to find him, Dwight." Angela felt her lower lip trembling as she fought not to cry anymore. Tears never helped anything. "Where would you even begin to look? He was wearing a ski mask. I didn't see him. I have no idea who he is. He could be anyone..."

"I have learned a lot about this man this morning. I know him now better than he knows himself. I know how to lure him out of the shadows," Dwight told her.

"And how on earth would you know that?" Angela frowned up at him.

"I read the police files," Dwight told her. "As you know, I'm a volunteer sheriff's deputy."

"They don't give volunteers access to the files, Dwight." Angela crossed her arms over her chest and scowled up at him. She really didn't want him getting himself involved in this.

"They gave this volunteer access." Dwight countered with a proud grin. "I know he's probably going to be watching from a distance. I know that he chooses his victims and doesn't allow himself to fail. That means you're still on his list. He's going to want to finish what he's started. We'll lure him out with you."

Angela shook her head. That sounded like a ridiculously idiotic idea. "No, Dwight... How would we even do that?"

"You'll go off on your own - make yourself the perfect target. He's probably watching you, waiting for his opportunity. We'll give it to him, but he won't know that I'm watching too," Dwight told her. "Once he strikes, I'll strike."

Angela shook her head as she stared up at him in shock. She couldn't believe he was even suggesting this. There were so many ways for this to backfire. He only needed a couple minutes to strangle her, and if he caught on that Dwight was setting him up, maybe he'd go after him too. This was a terrible plan.

"He won't get you. I promise," Dwight assured her. "I'll be watching every second, ready to step in. He won't even get close, but we'll make sure you're prepared anyway, just in case. We'll get you some pepper spray and a mace."

"Pepper spray and mace are the same thing." She pouted up at him.

"No. Mace, like the weapon," Dwight clarified.

"I'm not doing that." Angela shrugged away from his hands as she heard the elevator door open behind her. She didn't think they had been moving, but maybe they had. "And I'm not going to let you use me as bait to catch a murderer. You're going to get me killed," she added.

Dwight grimaced as he looked out toward the doorway and then back down at her.

Angela turned around and saw Michael standing just outside of the elevator doors. They hadn't moved after all. The elevator door had only opened because Michael had pressed the button to go down.

"Um..." Michael hesitated. "I came out here to check on you, Angela... Oscar said you left after Kevin said something dumb... You know not to take that stuff personally, right? Kevin just says dumb things. You know that... Hey, Dwight..." Michael nodded toward Dwight before looking back down toward Angela.

"Hello, Michael." Dwight nodded toward him.

"I didn't take it personally. I was just going for a walk. I'm back now." Angela frowned and side-stepped around Michael. She didn't look back as she walked down the hall and back toward the office.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	9. Chapter 9

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 _ **Chapter 9**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

"Do you think it's a bad idea to use someone as live bait to catch a serial killer?" Dwight asked as he sat in Michael's office. After his boss had come out and found Dwight and Angela in the elevator, Michael had asked to speak with him to ask for advice on learning and teaching self defense. Apparently, he'd tried to teach everyone in the office how to defend themselves after he'd watched some youtube videos on the subject, and it hadn't quite worked out. Dwight agreed to go over the videos with him, but was also taking this as a perfect opportunity to get some advice from a trusted friend.

"You mean the Scranton Strangler?" Michael asked.

"Yeah." Dwight nodded. "It's not necessarily reckless to use someone as bait to catch him if you've got a good plan, right?"

Michael hesitated and kind of shrugged. "It's hard to say... How good of a plan it is?"

"Really good," Dwight answered. "I'd set her up to be the perfect, absolute ideal target - something the strangler can't resist. Maybe have her walking down a secluded alley in the dark or something. He'll think she's alone, but I'll be right there, ready to tackle him if he shows up. It's fool proof."

"Are you talking about Angela though?" Michael frowned as he looked away from his computer screen for a moment. "That's probably not a good idea. She's kind of sensitive to that topic lately. Maybe try Pam."

"What do you mean sensitive?" Dwight frowned. Why would Michael know anything about this? Angela hadn't told anyone else what had happened. Dwight knew she didn't seem interested in being bait, but Michael shouldn't have been in the know - besides for hearing her one protest to it in the elevator when the doors had opened, but that didn't mean she was sensitive to the topic. Most normal people wouldn't eagerly agree to be bait to lure a serial murderer...

Michael shrugged and glanced back at his screen and clicked a few times. "I don't know... We were doing a safety self-defense training thing, and someone was... you know, role-playing as the strangler and she was going to be role-playing the victim, but it turns out she really didn't want to play that role, and she screamed and slapped me - I mean the person that, uh... She slapped the person who was pretending to be the killer, I mean. She didn't like it. She doesn't want to play pretend about the strangler. Trust me."

"It's not pretend." Dwight stared back at him. "I want to catch him. For real. And Angela is the exact bait I need to do it. I'm ninety five percent certain this will work."

"I'd still say you should try Pam," Michael suggested again. "Angela's not going to let you do that... Unless she doesn't know she's bait, I guess... If it's a ninety-five percent sure thing, that's pretty much fool-proof. So if you could use her as bait without her knowing, that might be pretty cool... As long as you don't accidentally screw up and get her killed. If you caught the Scranton Strangler, that'd be really cool. You'd be a hero..."

"I _would_ be a hero." Dwight agreed.

"Well, Pam's probably like an eighty percent likely thing... Or Kelly, who'd actually be flattered if you asked her. Maybe seventy-percent for her," Michael suggested with another shrug. "That was the general consensus earlier at least - that the most likely to be strangled to death were Angela, Pam, and Kelly. Kelly's probably the most likely to let you use her for bait. Pam might. Angela's definitely not going to. So it's between Pam and Kelly."

Dwight shook his head. "The killer's not going to go after them. He doesn't go after people who have anything to do with each other."

"Has he killed someone related to Pam or Kelly?" Michael frowned.

"No, he went after Angela. He's not going to strike in the same place twice. Not for two separate victims. Kelly and Pam are too closely associated with Angela since they work together." Dwight noted.

"Wait, what?" Michael looked away from his computer screen and stared intently at Dwight. "When did he go after Angela? Angela's not dead. He didn't go after Angela... What are you talking about?" Michael leaned to the side and peered out the window along the wall, looking across the office toward accounting. "She's okay... She's right out there... You were just talking to her."

Dwight grimaced as he realized he'd just let Angela's secret slip. He could barely believe his own stupidity. He was way too comfortable around Michael and hadn't even thought about what he was saying. Michael wasn't supposed to know this. "No... I mean... I was kidding. Never mind. Show me those youtube videos. I'll show you what you were doing wrong."

"No..." Michael frowned and shook his head. "Was... Is Angela the person the strangler attacked last night?" He looked out the window again. "Are you serious? It was her?"

"No," Dwight insisted. He felt himself sweating. "I was joking around with you..." He forced a small laugh.

Michael shook his head again. "No you weren't... Oh my god... No wonder she got so scared when I jumped at her out of nowhere like that... I'm such an idiot! Why didn't someone tell me? I wouldn't have pretended to strangle her if I'd known... Is she okay?" He looked out the window again. "Should I call her in here?"

"No, don't do that..." Dwight told him. "She doesn't want anyone to know... Michael, I wasn't supposed to say anything."

"Why do you know this when I don't?" Michael frowned and his shoulders slumped. "I'm her boss... Why did she tell you and not me? She doesn't trust me..." He looked genuinely hurt as he stared back out toward the accounting department.

"She didn't tell me... I just know," Dwight said. "I'm a volunteer sheriff's deputy. Remember? It's my job to keep up with this stuff." He couldn't tell Michael the entire truth, or else his relationship with Angela would be out in the open too. It was bad enough that he'd let this slip. She'd never forgive him if he spilled all of her secrets within the same two minutes.

"Oh..." Michael nodded. "Yeah. I remember... How did she escape?" he asked.

Dwight shook his head. He couldn't tell Michael that she'd gotten away because Dwight showed up at her house and scared away the strangler. "She just got away. It's not important. What's important is that the strangler probably wants to finish what he started. If we want to catch him, we can lure him out with Angela."

"But she's not gonna let you do that, Dwight," Michael reminded him. "This is really serious. Did she go to the police?"

"Yeah." Dwight stared at his boss. How else did he think the news was reporting on this? "Michael, you have to promise not to say anything about this to anyone," he added. "Not even Angela. Don't act weird. You weren't supposed to know about this."

"I won't say anything..." Michael said, but he looked like he was dying to talk about this.

"Just get it all out," Dwight suggested. "You and me. We'll talk this out. She doesn't want anyone to know. You and I already do, so if you want to talk about it, you and I can do that right now - to keep us from feeling the need to say anything to someone else."

Michael shook his head and made a groaning sound. "I feel really, really bad, Dwight... I did that stupid self-defense lesson, and I had no idea... I asked everyone to suggest who in the office would be the easiest victim, and some people mentioned her... I didn't disagree... I actually voted for her too... We voted for who would be the best victim, Dwight. I voted for her. Kevin suggested her," he added, probably trying to shift the blame onto someone else. "I was fine going with Pam... But then Kevin said Angela, and I was like, yeah. She's like four feet tall. Of course the strangler could murder her. I never knew he actually tried to. That was really insensitive of us. No one knew... She looked annoyed, but she always looks annoyed."

"Well, Michael, you guys weren't wrong." Dwight shrugged. Obviously the strangler did see something appealing in Angela. She was small and physically weak. It would be easy for a grown man to murder her. They were right. "She knows you didn't mean anything by it."

"You think so?" Michael frowned. "I would have definitely just suggested that we pretend to strangle Pam or Kelly if I had known."

"She knows that you didn't know... Did she seem mad at you?" Dwight wondered.

"Well, she did when she slapped me," Michael noted with a nervous laugh. "But then she said she was sorry, and just asked that I not jump out and pretend to murder her ever again... So maybe she's not mad."

"See? Everything's fine." Dwight assured him. "Now how do I convince her to be live bait?"

Michael shrugged. "Maybe don't tell her you're doing it... Lure her into an abandoned house with a recording of a meowing cat."

Dwight narrowed his eyes. "Well, we've got to lure the strangler at the same time. Why would he go into an abandoned house? He seems to stalk his victims in advance, so we need him to know that she's going to be alone at some point and to strike then, but then I'll be hiding nearby to stop him from actually doing anything."

"Just convince her that she's safe by herself, and let her go places all alone, but follow her from a distance - so the strangler doesn't know you're watching. Just do what the cops do." Michael suggested. "She doesn't have to know."

"She's not going to be convinced that she's safe by herself." Dwight frowned. "I already told her there was another victim who got away and that that person was violently murdered a month later. I already convinced her that the killer wasn't going to stop until she was dead."

"You'll have to take her somewhere and then leave her there - or at least make her and strangler think you left her there." Michael offered.

Dwight nodded. "Yeah... He'll probably take any chance he can get. I'll bet he's watching her every move. He's gonna want to tie up this loose end as quickly as he can."

"We can have her work late one day, without anyone else working late. Then she'll have to walk to her car all alone at night. We'll leave clues in advance for the strangler to find, so he'll know that she plans to work late that day. And if she doesn't want me to know what happened, she won't be able to tell me no," Michael suggested.

Dwight nodded. That was verging on cruel, but it might work. Dwight could hide in the hedges and catch the killer just as soon as he showed up.

"Alright," Dwight agreed. "We'll make sure to talk about her having to work late out in the parking lot or one of us can take her to lunch and discuss it in a restaurant. The killer is probably pretty close, watching and gathering information. We'll hope that he overhears something."

"Just make sure you really do catch him if this works," Michael warned. "If we get Angela killed, I'm gonna feel really bad..."

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 10**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Finally, after the longest work day in history, it was five o'clock. Angela sat back for a minute so that most people would leave before her. She didn't need everyone watching her and Dwight leaving the office together. Several people were already suspicious about her various secrets.

She glanced across the office at Dwight, who looked back for a half-second before looking away, likely not wanting to raise any suspicions in anyone.

"Angela," Michael called out from across the room as he stood in his office's doorway. "Could I speak to you for a minute before you go?"

Angela felt her shoulders slump. She was very ready to leave. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. With a sigh, she stood from her desk and made her way toward Michael's office. "Yes?" she asked as she stood in the doorway.

"I'm going to need you to work late on Friday," Michael told her.

"Why?" She frowned.

"I need you to re-check all of the accounting records for this year," Michael explained.

"Which ones?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at him.

"Just... All the records. The financial stuff that you do." Michael shrugged. "You've got to look over them and check them for accuracy. I got a memo from corporate saying they need to be re-checked."

"All of them?" Angela stared back with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." Michael nodded.

"For the whole year?" She couldn't believe this. It was December. That was literally twelve months worth of records, and he was just now telling her this, at the end of the year, and expecting her to do it all alone?

"That's an entire year's worth of work, Michael. You want me to do all of that all by myself on one Friday?" Angela put her hands on her hips. "Do you even know for sure what they want looked over? That's ridiculous. Let me see the memo."

"I deleted it... I'll get back to you. Whatever it was, they said it shouldn't take more than a couple hours," Michael told her.

"Then I'll do it tomorrow during work," Angela suggested.

"No, you've got to stay late. Corporate said so. You've got too much other work," Michael refused.

Angela sighed. "Just me? Are Oscar and Kevin staying late?"

"It's a one person job. I'll leave you the keys to lock up," Michael offered.

"Wait..." Angela's shoulders slumped. "You're going to make me stay late all by myself? You're not even going to stay? Just me? Literally all by myself?"

Michael frowned and stared back.

"You're going to make me work all alone, at night, when you know there's a murderer strangling people?" Angela scowled at him. This was almost too cruel for her to even believe. Michael had some pretty stupid ideas, but this was just ridiculous. "You even said it yourself - that I'd be a perfect target for this guy. Do you want me to die, Michael?" She was honestly starting to feel panicked. Maybe she should just refuse, and if he fired her, at least she would still have her life...

"He's not killing people at their jobs, Angela. You'll be fine." Michael insisted.

Angela frowned. She couldn't exactly tell him why she was so worried. Maybe she'd just finish whatever work he wanted her to do during work hours anyway, as long as he told her what it was in time for that to be possible. Or maybe she could just ask Dwight to stay late too. "Fine." She finally just agreed so she could leave. "Anything else?"

"No." Michael shook his head.

She turned and headed toward the door.

"See you tomorrow, Angela. Be careful out there," Michael called after her.

"Out where?" Angela frowned.

"You know... The world... Like you said, there's a strangler running around killing people," Michael noted. He actually looked legitimately concerned as he stared after her with furrowed brows.

Angela rolled her eyes and left his office. Like he even gave a damn. Making a tiny woman work late all alone, several hours after even the security guard would have gone home... It was almost like he was trying to set her up to be killed. Maybe he was upset with her for slapping him. He'd deserved it though, really.

"Ready to go?" Dwight asked her as soon as she was out in the lobby.

"Yeah." Angela glanced back at Michael, who was watching her intently through his window. She shook her head and looked away.

"What was that about?" Dwight wondered as he started toward the door.

Angela followed. "He wants me to work late on Friday." She frowned as they made their way out into the hallway. "And he wants me to stay all by myself. He's leaving me the keys... I don't want to stay by myself."

"Well, I guess you kind of have to though," Dwight commented.

"But the strangler could be waiting for me to be alone..." Angela frowned up at him as they stepped into the elevator and started heading downstairs. "I don't want to risk it. It's a terrible idea. The work probably doesn't even need to be done."

"I'm sure he wouldn't come after you at work," Dwight assured her.

"But he might. There was someone in a van in the parking lot yesterday, just kind of sitting there. I couldn't see them. They seemed like they could be watching me and they didn't leave until Kelly showed up and started walking with me," Angela told him. "It could have been the strangler. I think he's already stalked me here. Why wouldn't he do it again? Will you stay late on Friday so I don't have to stay alone."

"I can't, Angela." Dwight shook his head.

"But I could be killed!" Angela reminded him. "If you're right and the killer stalks his victims and went back to kill the only other one who got away, he's going to be just waiting for a chance... This would be a perfect opportunity for him to kill me! You have to stay!"

"Aw... I would, but I'm gonna be busy that night," Dwight declined with a shrug. "I'm sure you'll be okay."

"Busy with what? What's more important than my life?" Angela frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm helping Michael re-tile his kitchen floor." Dwight shrugged.

Angela narrowed her eyes as she stared up at him. He looked like he was hiding something. There was no way he'd treat her so carelessly after making so much effort to keep her safe ever since last night. He was up to something... and Michael seemed to be in on it. "You're trying to use me as bait, aren't you? You told Michael, and you're setting me up to be attacked so you can catch the killer!" She accused him.

"Keep your voice down!" Dwight shushed her. "Yes... We're setting you up, but more importantly, we're setting _him_ up. This is a foolproof plan."

"You told Michael?" Angela frowned.

"Accidentally," Dwight admitted as he looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Monkey. I really didn't mean to... But he promised not to tell anyone. If we can get the strangler to come after you here, we can catch him and put this whole thing behind us."

"Or I could end up being killed," Angela noted. "What if you don't catch him in time? If he comes here, it'll be to kill me. It doesn't take long, Dwight."

"I'll pay attention. He won't kill you. They have his DNA on file, so I don't even have to wait until he's attacking you for proof. I just have to catch him. The DNA from a couple of the murders will do the rest of the work for us," Dwight explained. "He only needs to make it into the parking lot. He'll never get anywhere near you."

Angela stared silently up at him for a moment. This was a horrible idea... But it sounded like if she didn't agree to knowingly be live bait to catch this guy, she was going to unknowingly do it. Dwight seemed to be pretty persistent about this. He wanted to use her to lure the killer out into the open, and was probably going to do so one way or another. She figured she'd rather be aware of what was going on.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "I'll play along... But you have to be really, really careful, and make sure he doesn't kill me."

"I will." Dwight nodded.

"I don't want him to even come within twenty yards of me. You have to make sure to stop him before he does anything," Angela continued. "I don't want to relive what happened last night. It's not enough that you catch him in the act."

"I understand. I'll be watching closely. The minute I see him, he's going down," Dwight assured her. "He won't even get close to you."

"Promise me, Dwight," she ordered. "I want you to make me a promise that this is going to work out. This is really, really scary. It's a horrible, reckless, dangerous idea. If I die because of this, I want you to feel bad forever, because it'll be all your fault."

"You're not going to die. I promise." Dwight smiled down at her and put his hand gently on her shoulder. "You're my everything, Monkey. I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you. We're gonna catch this guy and he's going to go to prison for the rest of his life. You'll be fine. I absolutely promise you that."

"I hope you're right." Angela sighed. She couldn't really feel optimistic about this plan when its potential failure meant her death.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	11. Chapter 11

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 _ **Chapter 11**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

This had been a frustrating week for George Howard Skub. What started with him finalizing his plans to close in on his latest victim had quickly disintegrated into complete failure. She'd escaped him at the last second, and had probably told the police quite a bit of useful information about him. Although he had been patient, he clearly hadn't been patient enough. He had struck too soon, and now victim number eight was still out in the world, probably telling people tiny little details she figured didn't matter much to the case, but that would eventually end up getting George caught.

Each of his chosen targets had required a degree patience, but this one had proven to be one of the most frustrating. He hadn't tried and failed to kill someone ever since his first kill, and that one had been sort of a test run. He thought he knew better by now. Perhaps he had gotten too cocky. Maybe failure was just what he needed to remind himself to work more carefully.

Over the past months, he'd been getting better and better at quickly and effortlessly killing. His murders were becoming more frequent as his confidence built. He'd developed strategies to keep his victims from being able to fight back, was learning the best ways to get into various houses, and was pretty sure he had the actual act of strangulation perfected. His plans were virtually foolproof. He felt unstoppable... Failing like that had been a much-needed wake up call. It had been embarrassing.

No one knew George was the killer. To the world, George was just a random, uninteresting, regular guy. It wasn't George's own reputation he worried about tarnishing, but rather his alter-ego's. The notorious Scranton Strangler was not going to be remembered as a murderer who tried and failed to kill a tiny five-foot-tall cat lady. She should have been his easiest kill yet, and she would have been if her boyfriend hadn't shown up. He had destroyed what could have been a very satisfying thing. George hadn't planned this one for as long as the others. That had probably been his problem. He thought he knew her schedule, but he'd been wrong.

He first noticed this particular target about ten days ago. It was less than twenty-four hours after he'd killed his previous target. He'd started shopping for a new one right away, and had happened upon her at the grocery store. She was climbing up on a shelf to reach a large bag of cat food and George had offered to help her. She had declined, and looked annoyed that he'd even suggested that she might not be capable of retrieving the item herself.

Right away he was drawn to her. She was very petite - and so would be an easy target. Overpowering her would be painfully simple for him. She was also by herself, which didn't necessarily mean anything, but certainly didn't hurt. He wasn't sold on her though until he made a joke and she responded positively to it. He asked her if her cat had taught her to scale shelves the way she was doing, and she'd briefly smiled.

The change in her eyes from one second to the next had lured him the rest of the way in. George didn't choose who he killed based on any sort of hatred or revenge. If anything, he chose people he actually kind of liked rather than ones who pissed him off. It wasn't about anger or sexual attraction. He was no rapist... He just got a rush when he killed, and the rush was more intense when he chose victims who he knew would be the most satisfying. He mostly chose them because of their eyes. If he saw something he liked there, he itched to destroy it. He purposefully chose people with expressive eyes. When this woman was angry, her eyes showed it. When she was amused, they showed it. He liked that. He wanted to watch those expressive eyes convey fear, panic, desperation, and then finally nothing at all.

So he'd followed her and watched from afar, found out where she lived, and took note of when she was home. During the five days that he'd watched her, no one had visited her at home. She spent every evening alone with a bunch of cats. He figured this would be the easiest one yet, and it was at first. But getting in a hurry had tripped him up. He didn't know her life as well as he thought. Closing in on her so quickly had been a mistake.

George could tell his compulsion was spiraling out of control. He was feeling less and less satisfied each time, having to kill more and more often in order to feel the thrill he was chasing. He had only watched this woman for about five days before attacking her. He'd moved in too soon, and it backfired. It was frustrating, but he had a feeling finally killing her tonight would be all the more satisfying as a result.

After the failure her boyfriend caused him, George had spent the next several days watching from a distance, and up close when he could, planning how he was going to finish this. He couldn't let her live. Not now. Not after he'd put so much effort into this. If he allowed her to go on living, it would be an insult to his very existence and a threat to his future. He didn't think she had seen anything to incriminate him. He hadn't spoken, had covered his face and hands. There should have been no fingerprints or hairs left behind. She couldn't see his face or even his hair color... But it was always possible that she could have seen something, no matter how small, that could incriminate him. If she hadn't told the police yet, she certainly would. He needed to get rid of her sooner rather than later.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for her, she and her friends were kind of idiots. They'd developed a plan to catch him, but it was so thinly veiled that he almost felt embarrassed for their sake. Over the past two days, he noticed them talking loudly and with a suspicious degree of specificity about their plan out in the open, in stores, at restaurants, out in their parking lot... They mentioned over and over again how she would be working late all by herself on Friday night. They talked about the parking lot being dark and dangerous and went out of their way to mention that there were so security cameras there.

It was all disguised as a conversation between them, but it was so awkward and unnatural, making it very clear to him what they were up to. They knew he might be listening, so they attempted to fool him... but he wasn't fooled. He could tell what they were aiming for - they were planning to have her leave the building late, seemingly all alone, but were going to wait in the parking lot, because they thought that's where he would strike. But that wasn't where he was going to strike...

Thanks to their poor planning skills, George now knew that his target was going to be all alone up in the office, with no one at all expecting anything to happen until she went downstairs. He only needed a few minutes to strangle the life out of her. While her boss and boyfriend lingered around the parking lot like morons, he would be up in the office finishing off his eighth victim. They'd never know until it was too late.

George wasn't usually one to make his kills personal. He normally just chose a good target, and went after them. It wasn't meant to be cruel. He wasn't trying to get even or prove a point. He just got a rush from watching the life drain out of another human being's eyes. But this time had become something else. Knowing that they had attempted to turn this around on him pissed him off. He was beginning to actually despise all three of them, and knew he was going to feel a certain degree of satisfaction knowing that they'd come up to the office to see why she never ended up coming out, only to find her lifeless body. They'd know their stupid plan had gotten her killed. It would serve them right for trying to capture him.

He'd been waiting patiently in the ceiling above the men's room in the Scranton branch of Dunder Mifflin literally all day. Interestingly enough, the outside door to the warehouse didn't always end up getting locked, which gave him the opportunity he needed to sneak into the building. Then he only had to wait until everyone except his target left. She was finally all alone.

George carefully moved the ceiling panel and slid down from his hiding place, landing on the floor as softly as he could manage. He pressed his ear against the wall and listened. It was five fifteen. Everyone except his target should have been long gone by now. Even so, he wanted to be careful. He wasn't careful enough last time, which was why he was here right now in the first place - cleaning up the loose ends his carelessness had created. He wanted to do it right this time.

He heard no commotion out in the office. He would need to move fast as soon as he chose to strike. He was confident he could outrun her, but even still, he needed to make sure she didn't get the chance to pick up a phone and call for help. Even though he could probably still do the job before police arrived, he would prefer to not be restricted by time, so that he could quietly slip out of the warehouse the way he came in and leave before anyone ever knew he had done anything.

Slowly and quietly, he made his way out of the bathroom and into the little kitchen area. There was a window there, and he could see his target through it, but fortunately, she didn't see him. She seemed very invested in whatever she as working on, which was strange considering her over-time had all been a ruse. Did she even actually have work to get done?

As quietly as he could manage, George opened the kitchen's door and sneaked around some of the desks so that he could come up more directly behind her instead of from her side. It was lucky for him she was so focused on her work. He lingered near the reception desk for a second, watching and waiting. She wore a conservative dress with a button-up sweater over it and a silky scarf around her neck - probably covering up the bruises he'd created a few days before. He wondered if it would be easier or harder to strangle someone with a scarf versus his hands.

He continued staring at her. She was so put together - so precise. Her hair was perfect, her clothing was wrinkle-free. Even when she'd almost been violently murdered, she was still concerned with what she looked like. She wouldn't be for long though. These were to be her very last moments. She'd been given a second chance, but she and her friends were too foolish to take it. Now she was all his.

She must have heard him breathing, or otherwise sensed his presence, because a few seconds before he was actually ready to make his move, she turned toward him. It wasn't a frightened turn. It was more curious - like she didn't think anyone was there, but was casually checking just in case. She looked genuinely shocked when she saw him.

Letting out a small gasp, the little blonde woman quickly stood up from her chair and reached toward the phone on her desk, probably to call for help.

George had wanted to avoid that, and fortunately for him, he was already close enough to do something about it. He lunged forward and grabbed her, squeezing her hand hard in his fist so that she dropped the phone with a small wince. He then roughly pulled her away from the desk so that she couldn't go for the phone again. From there, he went ahead and violently pulled at the phone until it was unplugged from the wall before tossing it across the office.

"Dwight!" the woman screamed as she struggled weakly under his hands. That was her boyfriend's name, but he wasn't close enough to hear her. No one was. She wasn't getting away this time. George would make sure of that.

Before she had a chance to cry out again, George hit her very hard across her temple. He was going to do this right this time, and that meant no screaming.

As planned, he'd hit her hard enough to temporarily make her lose consciousness. She immediately crumpled to the floor. George followed her down, turning her over onto her stomach long enough to tie her wrists securely together as he had before. His first kill had taught him to do this. She had been small and he figured overpowering her would be easy, but she'd reached up and scratched at his eyes with her fingernails and punched him in the nose before running off. He had wrongly assumed just being bigger and stronger was an automatic win for him. Some people, no matter how small and weak-looking, knew a couple self-defense tricks that could be pretty debilitating, not to mention the potential to leave behind DNA evidence... The second time he attacked her, he'd tied her wrists behind her first thing, and the rest was easy as cake.

He looked back down at his present target as he finished tying her arms, rolled her over onto her back, and produced a roll of duct-tape from his pocket. He tore a piece off and pressed it over her lips. She wasn't going to scream this time, but he did want her to wake up before he finished this. He wanted to watch her eyes while he ended her life. That was his favorite part of all of this.

As he stared down at her, waiting for her to wake up, he untied her scarf from her neck. He still wondered if he should kill her with it. It would be something new... Maybe he'd like it. It seemed foolish to change what was working so well for him right now though. This kill was important. He had to get it right this time... Maybe he could keep this scarf and kill his next target with it. He balled it up in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket before bringing his gloved hand down toward her neck. The scarf had indeed hidden bruises. He ran his fingers carefully over them, knowing that he'd be creating more in the next couple minutes. He needed her to wake up now.

"Angela," he used her name in a soft tone as he put his hand carefully against her cheek. He didn't normally talk to his victims, but it didn't matter. She wasn't getting away this time. He also didn't usually use their names. He didn't want this to ever feel personal, but since she and her co-workers had made it their mission to catch him, it had kind of felt that way now. That wasn't his fault. It wasn't meant to be personal and would have never become such if they hadn't set up this horribly flawed trap. Now, this was a lot about doing what he'd originally wanted to do, but a tiny bit about showing these people who was in control here and teaching them a lesson.

He put one hand against her neck and the other against her cheek as he spoke again. "Wake up, darling," he said in a deceptively gentle and optimistic voice. It was cruel to wake her up just so he could kill her, but he didn't care. He wanted to do this his way, and that meant she wasn't going to get off easy. He was going to make sure she looked at him one last time with her expressive eyes before he forced them to never see anything ever again.

Slowly, she began to stir, moaning softly, probably at the pain from him hitting her, as she blinked her eyes open. As soon as she became more aware and saw him hovering above her, she began to panic. Her dark eyes widened and she squirmed under him as she cried out muffled whimpers behind the tape he'd silenced her with.

George grinned as he stared into her eyes and moved both of his hands around her throat. He didn't say anything else as he tightened his grip. He almost wanted to comfort her, to promise her it would be over soon, but he kept quiet. He'd felt a certain degree of guilt for a grand total of three of his victims, including this one, but he would never outwardly display that. He did want them dead. That desire far-outweighed any small amount of remorse.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **:O**_


	12. Chapter 12

**_This chapter jumps back a tiny bit to show what Dwight and Michael were up to during the previous chapter._**

 ** _xxxxxx_**

 _ **Chapter 12**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

"You watch that monitor. I'll keep watch on the parking lot," Dwight suggested to his boss. It wasn't in the original plan to include Michael in this, but the man had wanted to help, and Dwight figured it would be safer to have more people around to take this guy down when the time came. He'd set up a camera in the office, just in case, to keep an eye on how Angela was doing, and another in the parking lot. The cameras worked as a live feed that was playing on two monitors in the back of Dwight's car. Angela was going to text him before she came out to the lot, so he could make sure to be out of his vehicle and ready to pounce if the strangler showed up. For now, they were just waiting and watching.

"What if he doesn't show up?" Michael wondered. "Seems like he might want to wait longer since he just tried a couple days ago. If I tried to kill someone, I'd wait a month or two before trying again, so no one would expect it."

"Yeah, I wondered the same thing," Dwight admitted. "But judging by the case files, he's escalating and getting impatient. His first and second kill were four months apart. I think they were every one or two months for a while, but he's been killing people really often lately. He waited less than a week between the last woman and Angela. He doesn't like waiting around anymore, so he really might show up here tonight. I wouldn't be surprised either way."

"How close did he get, Dwight?" Michael frowned. "Did he just break into her house or what?"

Dwight felt his shoulders slump as he looked at his boss. Michael didn't seem to realize how close Angela had come to being killed. Dwight honestly didn't want to go into too much detail. This was painful to talk about. He loved Angela. It actually made him feel sick thinking about the fact that this had happened to her, but Michael couldn't know how close this was to his heart. As far as his boss knew, Dwight's co-worker had nearly been killed, not his girlfriend.

"He broke in and attacked her." Dwight shrugged.

"What did he do though?" Michael wondered. "She's seemed normal all week besides her mood, which was only slightly worse than usual. She doesn't look beaten up or anything."

"She's been wearing long sleeves and scarves or a turtleneck to cover her injuries, Michael." Dwight frowned. "He tied her hands behind her and started to strangle her. That's how close he got."

"Oh my god..." Michael's eyes were huge. "That's why her voice is scratchy. Poor Angela... How did she manage to get away?"

Dwight shrugged. He couldn't tell his boss that he had been there. "I don't know. Just somehow got the upper-hand, I guess."

Michael nodded. "Well, I guess my self-defense training worked."

Dwight narrowed his eyes and stared at him. "Your self-defense training happened after she'd already been attacked."

Michael shrugged. "Well, the day before I kind of hinted at it."

Dwight shook his head and looked back at the monitor recording the parking lot. There was absolutely no movement out there. Nothing looked unusual.

"Aw, look. Angela's actually working," Michael noted as he watched his employee on the screen.

"Well, that's what you're paying her for, right?" Dwight rolled his eyes. "She's getting overtime pay for this. You'd better hope she'd actually be working."

"Well, I mean... We're trying to lure a serial killer here, and she's his intended victim... I'm surprised she's not too nervous to work. I certainly would be. Can you imagine?" Michael noted.

"Yeah... I guess." Dwight frowned. He wondered if maybe he should have tried to find a different way to go about this. He cared a great deal about getting revenge against this guy, but he cared more about Angela being safe. Getting rid of him would keep her safe in the long-run, but he was putting her at great risk in order to do that.

"She's one of my best employees, if I'm gonna be honest." Michael told Dwight. "A little judgmental... Maybe doesn't have the best interpersonal skills... People think she's mean." He shrugged. "But she works hard."

"I don't think she tries to be mean," Dwight defended her.

"No, I know." Michael nodded. "Nobody's perfect. I know that. Everybody's got flaws, but I like to think everyone's good underneath too. Angela can be kind of strict and grumpy, but I know she's a good person. Everyone in the office is. You're all like a family, no matter how often we get on each other's nerves. Everybody has their redeeming qualities... except for Toby. He's flaws and only flaws."

Dwight laughed.

"Ugh... I really, truly, unapologetically hate that guy... With the passion of a thousand suns. A million suns even." Michael shook his head. "Dwight, I literally cannot stand him. How could one individual human being be that infuriatingly aggravating?"

"I know what you mean, Michael," Dwight noted. "I feel that way about Jim. He thinks he's so smart and so funny... But he's not. He's an idiot. He's a pretentious, arrogant smart ass..."

Michael laughed. "He is kind of a smart ass, isn't he?"

Dwight nodded, glad that Michael was agreeing. Sometimes his boss showed too much appreciation towards Jim and it made Dwight feel almost jealous and betrayed.

"See anything over there?" Michael asked. "I feel like we're cops. It's kinda exciting... You know, except for the part where Angela might die."

"She's not going to die." Dwight frowned. "No, I don't see anything. But she's not supposed to be off work until seven, and we mentioned that publicly over and over again. If the strangler shows up, he'll probably not be here until closer to then... Unless he's outside of the parking lot... waiting somewhere just like we are." Dwight glanced toward Michael with wide eyes. "Maybe I should take a walk around... but then if he sees me, he'll know something's up... We have to stay put..." He changed his mind.

"Who's that?" Michael wondered as he pointed at the monitor showing the office.

Dwight leaned closer to the monitor in time to see what looked like a person making their way out of the kitchen. For a moment, Dwight's mind couldn't make sense of what he was seeing and he wondered if someone else had stayed late without him realizing it. The camera wasn't the best quality, and it was fixed more on Angela than the kitchen. As he squinted at the screen, however, he realized what he was looking at. The person was dressed in all black - including gloves and a ski-mask to obscure his face.

"That's him! Oh my god, Michael, it's the strangler!" Dwight gasped. "How did he get inside? We've got to get in there. Now!" He quickly jumped out of the vehicle and rushed toward the building.

As he made it to the door, he found that it was locked, which was a good idea in theory, but actually worked against them in this situation.

"It's locked?" Michael gasped. "Oh no! Dwight, I gave Angela my key!"

Dwight felt a frustrated growl in the back of his throat as he felt around in his pocket for his keys and frantically unlocked it. Dwight always knew he was the best candidate to be put in charge of the office's spare key.

He ran to the elevator and frantically pounded his fist against the button. As Michael rushed up behind him, Dwight contemplated making a run for the stairs. He had to get up there as quickly as possible. The elevator was taking forever, but the stairs were kind of out of the way. It might not actually be faster to run over to the stairs and then up them rather than just waiting ten or twenty seconds for the elevator.

"Don't panic, Dwight," Michael urged. "I'm calling the police. We'll get up there in time. Don't panic." He repeated, sounding somewhat panicked himself.

Dwight almost wanted to yell at him and tell him to shut up, since of course they were both extremely panicked and rightfully so. He pounded on the closed elevator doors instead. He couldn't help but wonder if choosing the elevator over the stairs would be a life or death decision. If it was, and he'd chosen wrong, he would never be able to live with himself.

After what seemed like forever, the elevator made its way down to the ground floor and the door slid open. Dwight and Michael quickly rushed inside and Dwight pressed the button to go up to the office. When it took a few seconds for the door to close, Dwight impatiently slammed his hand against the button again.

"I promised her she wouldn't get hurt..." Dwight groaned. He didn't know what he was going to do if anything happened to her. How could he live with himself knowing that this was all his fault? She'd even told him that in advance, that if she died, she wanted him to feel bad forever, because it would be all because of him.

He felt his breathing becoming panicked as the elevator seemed to move at a snail's pace. "Come on!" he yelled as he pounded his fist against the door. He looked over toward Michael, who was on his cellphone, probably talking to the police. Dwight didn't have the attention span to listen to his boss's conversation at the moment.

The door chimed and slid open. Dwight darted out and rushed toward the front entrance of his workplace with Michael close behind him. He pulled the door open and rushed into the office.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **I'm sorry I still didn't really resolve the cliffhanger... D': Stay tuned.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 13**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Angela choked out tears and struggled uselessly as she was forced to literally relive the exact nightmare she'd endured several nights ago. This time, however, it didn't look like anyone was going to save her, and she was most certainly not in the position to save herself.

Dwight and Michael expected that the killer might strike outside in the parking lot, not in here. No one had been watching out for this to happen. It was not at all how their plan was meant to unfold.

She whimpered under the tape covering her mouth as she fought to breathe and tried to squirm or kick out. The strangler had her pinned down pretty securely and her wrists were tied behind her. She couldn't move. This was too familiar. She stared up into her attacker's eyes, recognizing them from before even though she'd forgotten them entirely between their last encounter and this one. He glared down at her as he tightened his grip around her throat.

Angela could swear she heard some sort of commotion nearby, but her ears were ringing and all she could focus on was trying desperately to breathe. It wasn't until she saw someone slamming a fire extinguisher against the side of her attacker's head that she realized she wasn't so doomed after all.

She quickly discovered that it was Dwight who had struck him and saved her yet again. He'd successfully knocked the strangler away from her, only to hit him again, seemingly even harder, so that he fell down against the carpet.

Angela gasped for breaths, which was hard to do with tape over her mouth, as she struggled to crawl away from the scuffle. That was difficult too, since her wrists were still tightly bound behind her. She didn't even remember that happening...

It didn't take long for Michael to show up from somewhere behind Dwight. He rushed over to Angela's side and helped pull her up to her feet. He also guided her further into the corner while Dwight and the strangler continued to fight... The 'fight' was really more of Dwight repeatedly striking him with the fire extinguisher than anything else. The murderer didn't have much opportunity to fight back thanks to Dwight's adrenaline.

"You okay?" Michael gasped as he pulled the duct tape off of her face. "Oh my god, Angela. Are you alright? You okay?" He kept asking as he put his hands on her arms and stared back and forth into her eyes, back at Dwight's and the strangler's altercation, and then back at her. "Are you hurt, Angela?" He asked again when she didn't respond.

She breathed in and out quick, panicked breaths as she stared past Michael and at Dwight, who was still beating up the strangler. Dwight kept hitting him until he stopped getting back up. He had the extinguisher raised up, ready to strike again, until the other man interrupted him.

"Okay!" The strangler finally gave up and put his hands up in surrender as he coughed and groaned in pain. "Stop! I surrender! Don't hit me again. I give up. Okay?" he breathed out.

Angela maneuvered herself slightly more behind Michael as she watched Dwight and her attacker. She was scared his surrender wasn't genuine. He could get up again. He could go after Dwight... Maybe he was armed. How would anyone know? She kept her eyes on him, so she could warn Dwight the second he looked like he might try something.

Dwight reached forward and grabbed at the man's ski mask, tugging it off of him so they could all see his face. The strangler grimaced, but remained on his knees on the floor. He looked like a regular man, really, except something sinister in his eyes. He also looked fairly beaten up thanks to Dwight. There was blood running from a cut on his forehead and his lip was split.

Angela narrowed her eyes as she stared at him. He looked familiar. She'd seen him before, but she couldn't think of where.

"Why would you do this?" Dwight questioned as he held the extinguisher threateningly, ready to strike again if need-be. "Why did you kill all those people?"

The strangler shrugged and shook his head. "I didn't kill anyone." He denied the accusation. "I was just playing." He looked toward Angela and smirked. It made her want to take the fire extinguisher from Dwight and smack her attacker with it herself.

"Angela, are you okay?" Michael spoke again as he stood protectively between her and the man who'd just tried to murder her.

"I'm fine," she finally answered. "Untie my hands."

Michael nodded and did as instructed. "The police should be here soon," he told her. "I know you might be mad... Because we almost got you killed... But our plan worked too. You won't have to worry about him coming after you again." He shrugged with a forced, nervous laugh as he loosened the ropes completely and let them drop to the floor.

Angela frowned as she brought her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists. She was still staring at the man kneeling in front of Dwight. He was so familiar looking in a way she couldn't quite place. She knew she'd seen him before.

"I hope you don't hate us forever." Michael looked apprehensive as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't," she told him.

"The police have no evidence against me," the strangler spoke up. "I wasn't trying to kill you, sweetheart. I was just playing around and got too rough. Sorry. At worst, they'll charge me with assault. It's not my fault some guy's going around murdering people while I happened to joke around too rough with you."

Dwight shook his head. "Shut up," he growled. "Michael, get her out of here."

"Dwight, wait," Angela objected and stepped toward him. Dwight seemed very angry, and the fact that he was asking Michael to take Angela out of the room make her wonder what he was planning on doing once she was no longer there to witness it. "Don't kill him... You'll go jail. It's not self-defense anymore."

"The cops don't have to know that," Dwight said in a low voice as he glared down at the man still kneeling on the floor.

"Uh..." Michael hesitated and pulled Angela back. "I don't know about this, Dwight... He'll go to prison if you just let the cops do what they do. Just let the justice system work itself out."

"There's no way you'll get away with killing me." The strangler's voice actually shook very slightly and he sounded pretty nervous. Angela almost felt happy to hear fear in his voice, but he was right. Dwight would be in a lot of trouble if he killed this guy, even if the man deserved it.

"Shut up!" Dwight growled as he swung the fire extinguisher back threateningly, acting like he was more than ready to bring it down across the man's face yet again.

"Dwight-" Angela said again, her voice scratchy.

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment. All that could be heard was quick breaths coming from all four of them. No one present wasn't out of breath for one reason on another.

"I won't kill him," Dwight finally promised with an annoyed sigh. "His DNA was at some of the murder scenes. His stupidity will get him killed all on its own. I don't have to do anything. Just get Angela out of here." He looked toward Angela for a half-second before looking back down at the strangler. "Go with Michael, Monkey. Wait outside for the paramedics and tell the police where to go when they get here. I promise I won't kill him. I don't want him dead. I want him to rot in prison."

"Okay." Angela nodded. She could tell Dwight meant that. If he wanted to kill the guy, he probably would have retrieved one of the many strange weapons he had stashed at the office.

She let Michael lead her out of the office and toward the elevator.

"Angela, are you really okay?" he asked as he pressed the button next to the elevator and then turned back toward her as they waited. "That didn't go at all how I thought it would..." he noted as he leaned forward slightly and looked at her throat. He put his hand carefully against her neck, moving some of her hair to the side.

"I'm okay, Michael," Angela assured him and pushed his hand away.

"You sure, Angela?" He frowned. "I know we don't always get along perfectly, but I care a lot about you. That was really scary what just happened... and I know I don't have to tell _you_ that, but it breaks my heart just thinking about it. All of you at the office are like my kids... I kind of feel it's my duty to protect you guys."

"From murderers, Michael?" Angela raised her eyebrows.

"From anything." Michael shrugged.

Angela smiled slightly. It was absolutely not on him to protect everyone in the office and act as their father-figure. He wasn't even old enough to be her father. Even so, she did appreciate that he was here right now. He didn't have to get involved in Dwight's reckless plan. As usual, he was trying to help, and the result was kind of a mess, but it actually did kind of work out at the same time.

"I'm fine, Michael," she assured him. "A lot better than I'd be if you guys hadn't been here."

"I'm glad you're okay." Michael frowned and his voice shook slightly. "I don't know what I'd do if-"

"Probably promote Kevin," she interrupted with a somewhat forced grin. Seeing Michael emotional was weird. She wasn't usually one to make jokes, but whenever Michael was serious, it made her feel awkward.

Michael let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe Oscar though."

"That would probably work out better," Angela agreed. The elevator door slid open and they stepped inside.

"Do you think Dwight's gonna be famous since he stopped the Scranton Strangler?" Michael wondered as he reached toward the panel of buttons and pressed the one for the ground floor. "This is a pretty pretty big deal. He could end up being world-famous... like the guy who caught the Zodiac Killer."

"Nobody caught the Zodiac Killer, Michael," Angela told him.

"Oh." Michael frowned. "He turned himself in?"

Angela shook her head. "No, Michael. Nobody caught him. He didn't turn himself in. Nobody even knows for sure who he is. He might still be out there... Or maybe he died or got arrested for something else. No one knows. That one's never been solved."

"He's still out there?" Michael grimaced and shuddered. "Maybe Ted Bundy then. Dwight'll be just as famous as the guy who caught him. Can you imagine?"

"Who _did_ catch Ted Bundy though?" Angela wondered.

"Oh... I guess I don't really know..." Michael frowned. "Maybe he won't be famous."

"The Scranton Strangler is kind of more of a local thing anyway. Probably people around here will make a big deal about it for a month or two and that'll be the extent of it." Angela shrugged. She absolutely didn't want fame, especially not for this. If the press approached her, she wasn't talking to them. She'd leave that to Michael and Dwight. They both seemed to welcome the publicity.

They stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor to find the comforting view of police lights coming from outside. Angela exhaled in relief, glad that Dwight wouldn't be up there alone with the strangler for much longer.

"Angela?" Michael wondered.

"Yeah?" She looked back at him.

"Am I going crazy, or did Dwight call you a monkey?" he asked. "What's that all about? Seems kinda mean..."

Angela felt a small smile tugging at her lips as they stepped out of the elevator. She shrugged and hid her grin as best as she could. "I didn't hear him say that," she lied.

"Sounded like that to me," Michael noted. "Maybe I misheard him. It doesn't make much sense."

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter 14**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Dwight frowned as he made his way back across the waiting room and sat down next to Michael. They'd both accompanied Angela to the hospital after talking to the police, and it looked like the doctors were going to keep her here overnight, probably because the strangler had hit her pretty hard this time and they were worried she could have a concussion.

Whatever the doctors were doing was seeming to take forever. Dwight and Michael had been waiting for quite some time now, long enough for Dwight to take two separate trips to the gift shop, during which he purchased two separate gifts - a small vase of flowers and a tiny little statue of a cat. He had the flowers delivered directly to her room. The cat figurine rested in his pocket. He wasn't sure if he'd even end up giving it to her. Maybe she didn't want gifts from him. She was probably pretty pissed at him for almost getting her killed. Maybe she'd be offended if he tried to offer her small gifts as repayment for nearly causing her death.

"I can't believe that worked," Michael noted in a low voice as Dwight handed him a cup of coffee. "Dwight, what we just did was really, really cool... But really dangerous too. It's a good thing we had the camera in the office. I just can't get over it. We caught a serial killer!"

Dwight nodded. He didn't need Michael to tell him that their plot had been reckless. He was well aware of how dangerous their plan had been, and he felt absolutely terrible about it. There were so many tiny factors that could have made this whole thing turn out much more grim. If Dwight hadn't been in possession of the spare key, if the elevator had taken a minute or two longer, if Michael hadn't noticed the strangler on the monitor right away, if the strangler had gone straight for Angela instead of lingering in the kitchen... If any of that had been different, Angela would be dead. Dwight's poor planning could have easily gotten her killed.

Catching a notorious local serial murderer was a big deal. Anyone would have considered this success impressive, but it was hard to feel proud considering how close they'd come to failing.

Dwight looked toward the door as a familiar face entered the waiting area. It was the police officer he'd been in contact with, Ken. "May I talk to you two in private?" he requested.

"No one else is here." Dwight scowled at him. "Talk to us here."

Ken exhaled and sat down across from them, scooting his chair closer and speaking in a low voice. "What you did was very reckless," he started. "It's good that you caught the killer and that he's off the streets, but there's a reason we don't use surviving victims as traps and there's a reason we don't condone vigilante justice. You could have gotten your friend killed. You almost did. You could have gotten yourselves killed."

Michael frowned and looked down at his coffee in his hands. He clearly felt bad.

Dwight felt bad too, but Ken didn't need to know that, and Ken needed to also feel bad, because while Dwight had kind of been reckless, Ken had been too passive. Dwight _could_ have gotten someone killed, but Ken's failure to act _did_ get people killed - lots of them.

"It's funny that _you're_ questioning _my_ methods, Ken," Dwight started as he stared at the man with narrowed eyes.

"Is it?" Ken frowned at him. "It's funny to you that you used your friend to prove a point and nearly got her killed? This is why this stuff is best left up to professionals, Dwight. You didn't know what you were doing. It's only based on luck that this worked out how it did."

" _You_ might use luck to catch criminals." Dwight scowled at him. "That would explain why you've been going after this guy for a year and never caught him, and why I went after him for what... three days? Must be pretty embarrassing to be working on a case for a year, to have seven people die on your watch, and an eighth almost die... and still be nowhere near success. I wouldn't know how _that_ feels. I've been on the case since Tuesday, and I solved it."

"Well, anyone could have solved it if they endangered lives like you did," Ken growled.

"No, your way was _much_ better." Dwight's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Must feel good to watch the guy you're trying to catch kill seven people while you sit back and play it safe. Good thing you didn't try anything dangerous, huh? You wouldn't want to risk anything while he just picks off random people one by one."

Ken shook his head. "You were reckless, Dwight. I don't want you trying to catch criminals like this. It happened to work out this time, but you can't be doing things like this - setting up people as bait, attacking murderers all on your own. What if he had a weapon?"

"He didn't." Dwight shrugged.

"It was a huge risk." Ken frowned.

"It was, Ken," Dwight agreed. "But so was not doing anything. I did your job for you. Since you wouldn't do anything, I had to. Maybe you need to not question my methods considering what I know about yours." He stared with narrowed eyes at Ken, silently implying that he still had dirt on the man - even more so now that he'd given Dwight classified files.

"Fair enough." Ken shook his head and stood. "I'm glad your friend is alright. Maybe you would have actually learned a lesson otherwise, but I'm honestly glad she's okay. I just hope you don't get anyone else killed doing this kind of thing in the future," he added and walked out of the room.

"Wow..." Michael stared at Dwight. "What a jerk. We totally solved his case... He doesn't even know Angela, so what does he care?"

"So ungrateful," Dwight agreed as he shook his head. "You do a guy's job for him, and he gets all nit-picky."

"Mr. Schrute?" a nurse spoke as he made his way over toward them. "You can come back and see her now."

Dwight stood, as did Michael.

"One at a time, please. We'll come back in a few minutes, sir," the nurse nodded toward Michael.

Michael frowned and sat back down.

Dwight exhaled as he followed the nurse back to Angela's room. He wondered if she was going to be angry with him. He hadn't really gotten the opportunity to talk to her yet. Before they had gone through with their plan, he had promised her that the strangler wouldn't come near her - that Dwight would stop him before he could try anything... But that's not how it had gone down. He promised her she'd be safe. He had believed it too. He thought that the only person in any real danger would have been himself, when he psychically attacked the murderer and risked being attacked back. Angela was never supposed to be in any real danger, but here they were, with her in a hospital bed, with more bruises and possibly a concussion...

Angela looked up at Dwight as he entered her room.

"Hey," Dwight spoke in an uncertain voice as he stayed near the door. He put his hands in his pockets, feeling the little cat figurine he had nearly forgotten was there. He wouldn't be at all surprised if she was pretty upset with him right now. Not knowing what else to say, he awkwardly began making small-talk. "I didn't know you could only have one visitor at a time."

"I could have had you both visit together." She shrugged. "I asked them to have you come back alone."

"Oh..." Dwight hesitated and rubbed his fingers slightly over the cat statue in his pocket. Maybe she wanted to yell at him without an audience. "Are you feeling better? Everything alright?" he asked nervously. She seemed to have a bit of a bruise and a small cut on her forehead where the strangler had hit her, and of course her neck and wrists were still bruised, and probably even more bruised than before.

"Yeah. I'm okay. It's not a big deal. They just want to keep me overnight just in case." Angela shrugged.

"Okay..." Dwight nervously nodded. He still couldn't tell if she was upset with him. He wanted to go over and hug her and never let her go, but he also feared if he made any gesture like that, she might shove him away and tell him she hated him for what he'd done. He had put her into a lot of danger tonight, and had almost gotten her killed, after promising her she'd be safe. He wouldn't blame her for being absolutely pissed at him.

"Come sit down," Angela offered, patting her hand on the side of her bed.

Dwight did as she asked. "You mad at me, Monkey?" He frowned as he gently gripped her hand and looked down at the hospital sheets covering her legs.

Angela shook her head and squeezed his hand. "No," she answered.

"You sure?" Dwight wondered. He kind of felt like she should be. "What I did was really reckless. He could have killed you..."

She shook her head. "It was a good plan. It worked. Maybe not perfectly, but it worked."

"Yeah." Dwight frowned. "It worked too well... We taunted him with the idea of being able to come back for you, and he sure fell for it..."

Angela laughed softly. "Yeah. He did."

"I shouldn't have used you like that." Dwight moved his thumb carefully over her wrist as he held onto her hand. "I cared so much about stopping him that I let it take priority over keeping you safe. I don't know what I would do if he'd killed you, Angela... and I want to hurt him so bad for what he did."

"I think you did hurt him pretty bad, Dwight." Angela smiled. "I really enjoyed seeing you smack him across the face with that fire extinguisher over and over again."

"You did?" Dwight smirked. "I didn't even think about it... I guess I only really needed to hit him the one time."

"I like that you hit him more than once," Angela noted. "He didn't feel bad when he hurt me, so I didn't feel bad when you hurt him."

"He deserved it," Dwight agreed.

Angela exhaled and closed her eyes. "Yeah. He did deserve it," she said in a tired voice. Opening her eyes, she frowned and carefully swallowed before looking up at him. "I recognized him, Dwight. When you took the ski mask off of him, I realized that I had seen him before somewhere. I couldn't think of where, but I remember now."

"Really?" Dwight frowned. He hadn't recognized the guy at all. "Who was it? Where did you know him from?"

"I don't _know_ him," Angela explained as she ran her fingertips over his palm. "I just saw him before. Last week. He was at the grocery store in the cat food isle. He offered to help me get a bag of cat food off the top shelf and made some stupid joke about how me climbing around on the shelf to reach it reminded him of a cat or something. That was it. He seemed nice. He wasn't staring at me like a creep or making fun of me really... Just making a joke and trying to be helpful. It was so normal and disarming that I totally forgot the entire encounter until tonight. I didn't see him again. We didn't say anything else to each other... I went home and forgot he existed."

"Wow... Really makes your skin crawl, huh? It was just a normal conversation to you, but he clearly didn't feel that way. Something about it made him decide to strangle you to death," Dwight noted and then shook his head. "That's messed up... You can't even talk to a guy in the cat food isle these days."

"I had been wondering ever since he first attacked me if the strangler had chosen me because I was mean to him, but I wasn't. I wasn't mean to this guy. I'm mean to so many people, Dwight. So many people just get on my nerves and I usually let them know it, but the one guy I wasn't even mean to is the one who tried to kill me." She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.

"You can't think of it like that... It sounds like you were trying to rationalize what this guy did to you. Just because he wanted to kill you doesn't mean he's got any kind of excuse. If you're looking for a reason for why he did this, don't look at yourself. Look at him. He's a serial killer. He's just a psycho. Not because you were mean... None of his victims messed up and did something to deserve what happened to them," he explained.

"I guess it would have been comforting to have a reason behind all this," Angela noted with a frown and a tired exhale. "It's terrifying to know that someone could just decide to murder you for no reason. At least if I had said something rude to him, I could learn from it. How do I learn from this? There was no reason..."

"This guy's just a complete creep bastard... He didn't attack you because you did anything wrong... I know that can be even scarier than someone who hurts you because they hate you... But that's who he is - just a serial murderer. You can't make sense of it. Besides, even if you were mean, you and I both know the person on the receiving end of your harsh words would have deserved it. You're only mean to stupid people," Dwight reminded her.

Angela laughed, even though she had tears in her eyes. "I _am_ only mean to stupid people," she agreed. "And you're right. It's his fault and his fault alone that he decided to become a serial killer."

"That's right." Dwight nodded as he ran his fingers over the figurine in his pocket. "Hey, I got you something," he remembered.

"I know. The nurse brought them in earlier," Angela said and nodded toward the vase of flowers on the table next to her bed. "Thank you, Dwight."

"Oh... No, I got you something else," Dwight told her. "I was out there waiting for a long time... I made two trips to the gift shop... I think you'll like this more than the flowers."

"Really?" Angela looked back up at him and pulled herself up a bit more in the bed. "What is it?" She smiled and her eyes brightened.

Dwight couldn't help but to smile back. He loved seeing happiness on Angela's face. Sometimes she was so hard to please, which made each and every second of her smiles mean so much more. He put his hand carefully on her chin and leaned forward, kissing her very softly as he pulled the little cat statue from his pocket. Angela closed her eyes and kissed him back before he leaned away and moved his hand between them, showing her the gift.

Angela reached out and touched the statue with her fingertips and glanced up into Dwight's eyes. "I love it!" She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

He put his arms around her as well and rested his chin on the top of her head, enjoying the feeling of her soft hair tickling his neck. "I thought of you when I saw it. It looks like Sprinkles," he noted. Dwight couldn't give a damn about her cats, but he knew she cared about them a great deal and figured she'd like that he chose a statue that resembled the one which seemed to be her favorite.

"It _does_ look like Sprinkles," Angela noted as she pulled back out of their embrace and took the statue from him. She turned it over in her hands. "Thank you, Dwight."

"No problem." Dwight smiled down at her. "Sorry I almost got you killed..."

"That's okay, Dwight. Just don't do it again. We might try a different approach the next time a serial killer comes after me," she laughed.

"Yeah," Dwight agreed. "I'm so glad you're okay, Monkey." He said in a whisper as he gripped her hand again and stared into her eyes. "That was a close call... again."

"Well, you saved me again, Dwight," Angela noted. "Sure, you kind of saved me from your own plan this time, but you _did_ save me... Two times now, just this week. No other man has ever rescued me form a serial killer before. That's impressive." She wrapped her arms around him and he did the same as they pulled each other close.

"I'll save you from as many serial killers as I need to," Dwight promised her. "I love you, Angela."

She leaned her head against his chest and smiled. "I love you too, Dwight."

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **THE END**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **I hope you all liked it - specifically the few people who have been reviewing, since you're the only ones I know for sure were excited by this plot pretty much the whole time I was publishing it. I hope I took this story in the direction you hoped for and didn't conclude it too soon. I suppose I could have added more in the middle... but I didn't. I think it ended up okay and I hope you enjoyed it too. Thanks for reading. :)**_


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